Matt S' music journalism page

Field Music- A House is Not a Home

2007-02-13T14:15:00.000Z

Originally published at; http://www.disordermagazine.com/article.php?id=607

Field Music- A House is Not a Home

Sick of revivals yet? The 70s and 60s in the 90s, the 80s in the naughties, and now inevitably the 90s. Luckily, bands like Field Music apparently listened to their Britpop under the influence of something that skewed and twisted the genre into something infinitely more interesting. The harmonies that sold Blur’s Parklife meet the orchestration and grandiose of the Beatles-obsessed Oasis’ What’s The Story (Morning Glory). See how great things could have been had they put the class war aside and combined forces?

Those already familiar with Field Music will be pleased to know that the charmingly fresh sound introduced by the self-titled debut and continued on 2006’s Write Your Own History has been developed further, and to marvellous effect. These two tunes are hugely ambitious shifting patterns of sweet melody, both relaxingly reassuring and effortlessly involving. Wrapping your head around a tune as complex as Field Music’s ‘A House is Not a Home’ is one of the most pleasant musical challenges you are ever likely to experience. Once you can comprehend each song in it’s entirety, I absolutely guarantee that you will be 50% happier than you were beforehand, unless you’re one of those people who is always freakishly happy even though your job is shit and the only thing you’ve ever said to your ‘friends’ is “thanks for the add”.

Anti-depressants on a CD? It certainly beats the NHS.

Released 12th February 2007 on Memphis Industries

9 out of 10

13 Feb 2007 by Matt S.

Adrian Sherwood - On-U Soundcrash

2006-11-17T12:37:00.000Z

Adrian Sherwood - On-U Soundcrash

Originally published at http://www.disordermagazine.com/article.php?id=460

Bloody hell, where to begin? Ironically, this is probably what Adrian Sherwood thought as he stared at his files of mixes and records trying to figure out from which angle to tackle the construction of ‘On-U Soundcrash’. The main bulk of it is made up of dub/reggae beats, inter-spliced with ‘screeches and vocals’ (quote from the press release). As any sane person finds it literally impossible to stay still when a dub beat flows through them you would have thought Adrian was on to a winner, and initially he is. Like most things without variation however, this eventually gets fukcing boring. Yes, I use swear words to express strong feelings. I am both big AND clever.

There seems to be such a thin line between cool and uncool dub that I find it hard to distinguish between the bands featured here and UB40. Apologies if you like UB40 but let’s face it, if you’re of that persuasion you probably live in a travel tavern and walk to the petrol station for your groceries (spot the ‘clever’ cultural reference). I once bought an issue of Rhythm Drummers Magazine featuring the best of dub and reggae drummers. Worst £4 I ever spent.

As I allow this stuff to meander into my ears I can’t help but wonder what the hell this album is for. I mean, in what situation would this CD be comfortable? The one and only environment in which ‘On-U Soundcrash’ would fit snugly is in a dilapidated caravan carrying 4 stoned college students who can’t see each other through the thick clouds of smoke that surround them. Quite a small and specific target audience I feel.

Perhaps I’m missing the point, or perhaps it’s just repetitive and seemingly pointless. Either way, the people who love this sort of stuff probably already know all about it, and will buy it regardless. As for the rest of you, just buy the best of UB40; at least then you can sing along to ‘Red, Red, Wine’.

5 out of 10.

Released 13th November on On-U Sound

17 Nov 2006 by Matt S.

Brakes - The Beatific Visions LP

2006-11-14T10:34:00.000Z

Originally published at http://www.the-mag.me.uk/?ArticleId=1369

Brakes - The Beatific Visions LP

(Rough Trade)

Just like anything else that brings pleasure, music is often listened to in order to separate one's self from reality; to get away from the rigmarole of daily working life. If that's your bag, then look no further than Brakes. It's been clear since the release of debut album "Give Blood" that Brakes are quite simply mad as hatters. Not in an 'old lady who likes cats a bit too much' way, but more in a Timmy Mallet fun and wacky way. It must be great being vocalist Eamon Hamilton, and here's why.

Songs like "Spring Chicken" and "Porcupine or Pineapple?" are just plain mental; you can't not have fun with these tracks. There is literally nothing in the lyrics to ponder, leaving you to flail your limbs about in your living room or, more fittingly, a field at a warm summer festival. Although there's nothing as short or to the point as 10 second wonder "Cheney" from the first record ("Cheney... stop being such a dick!), most tracks on The Beatific Visions stick around the 2 minute mark. Anything more than that would just be stretching the point unnecessarily, something that Brakes have never felt the need to do. The 11 tracks on here come to less than half an hour, which is a relief after having just put myself through the hour long bore-fest that is Beck's new album.

Like Beck, Hamilton does occasionally get a bit more serious, albeit in his own refreshing way. "Isabel" is a touching acoustic number and one that highlights the simplistic, truthful lyrics. Hamilton's lyrics are akin to the opinions of a young child; sweet, innocent and seemingly free from any kind of ulterior motive. "If I Should Die Tonight" details what to tell a loved one if he should die, but not in an impending death situation. He seems to be speaking from a paranoid, vulnerable state of mind; one that you cannot help but admire. With this kind of honest lyric on show it is extremely easy to feel at ease. Now I don't know about you, but complete honesty is not something I experience in my life all that much! Thank you, escapism!

Thankfully Brakes' sound has not been altered at all from the first record, combining driving acoustic rhythms with simple, precise lead riffs. There's something earthy and rural about the chugging acoustic guitar that drives Brakes forward, as in future festival pleaser "Margherita". Elsewhere on the album we go slightly country on "Mobile Communication", a song about the frustrations of having to rely on mobile phones (something I can more than identify with). Different sorts for different cohorts.

In many ways The Beatific Visions has everything the first album had, which is a marvel really considering the apparent spontaneity of "Give Blood". Brakes are darn good fun and you will probably never hear a band that sounds like them anywhere else. They've been favourites of mine for a while and they're now officially favourites of The-Mag's too.

8 out of 10

Matt S.

Skindred - Live (Beat Takeshi / Instill / Amoki)

2006-11-13T17:42:00.000Z

Skindred - Live (Beat Takeshi / Instill / Amoki)

The Joiners has long been established as the best venue Southampton has to offer, no questions asked. However, this may have been due to the fact that no decent touring bands have turned their attention to The Brook in recent years.

It's normally the home to such greats as Tony Cristie, Ron Sexsmith and Robbing Williams. Nothing against this lot, but such a great venue deserves more attention from the local 'young 'uns'. Having seen Skindred before at Truck Festival, it seemed a real possibility that they could break The Brook with their 'bully boy tic-tacs' etc.

Before this though there is the little issue of support acts. First up are Instill, whom I miss due to a very long queue to get in, where I meet the only bouncer I have ever encountered who is actually trying to make things easier for the punters. He sorted out tickets and got us all in quickly, without smashing a single skull on the curb. Nice one.

Beat Takeshi are the first band I see and, while they have some neat little hardcore riffs and as such it is generally epic emo, its same old, same old. The epitome of being average. Hey, I like that line! Any emo or post-hardcore bands need a title for a song or album feel free to steal that one. Just remember to big me up in your blurb type thing.

Next up are the ever-present Amoki who actually sound a lot better in the slightly larger space of The Brook than they do in their usual haunt of The Joiners.

Unfortunately the music is just as uninspired as it has been every other time I've sat through their set, despite the vocal harmonies coming through quite well tonight. It really makes me wonder just how much longer these guys will be willing to keep plugging on. Bring back Dilutral I say.

As Skindred emerge from the little door at the back of the stage it's clear tonight's audience see this lot as some sort of martyr to heavy music, and I'd have to say I concur. As rap metal goes, they are the kings; and they perform as if every song is an opportunity to put this beyond a doubt. Despite being over 4 years old, everything off debut album Babylon sounds as lively and hard-hitting as it ever did - mainly down to Benji's iconic voice that flips effortlessly between metal growl and playful reggae chat.

Skindred are masters of playing the crowd, teasing us with opening riffs of old favourites before starting a different tune, or telling us all a little story about the origin of pit fave "Pressure". There are new tunes, most of which a bare minority recognizes, but Skindred aren't ones to let that bother them. There is no 'listen to our new stuff' arrogance here, and when the band members clearly enjoy the old stuff just as much as the crowd do there's no need for it.
One of metal's seminal acts for sure. Long live Skindred, and all who follow them.

Reviewed Live By: Matt S on 23/10/2006 at Brook, Southampton

The Shakes @ Southampton Stags Head 30/10/06

2006-11-13T17:41:00.000Z

The Shakes @ Southampton Stags Head 30/10/06

Having not stepped foot in a Student Union since my departure from formal education 17 months ago, tonight's visit should be an enjoyable one. Student Unions are places of wonder and beer, cute girls and music and fruit machines etc etc. However you have never experienced the true feeling of being a proper billy no-mates until you have visited a packed SU all on your lonesome.

Imagine walking into your SU with your mates for a few drinks and spotting the only person in there on his tod. You've noticed him because he's nursing the same pint he was 15 minutes ago and he keeps walking around to try and avoid being labelled as a lone barfly. He leans against the bar in cool pose after cool pose, adjusts his jacket, stares at the TV screen that has the same adverts for Uni events over and over, and then takes his seventh toilet trip in the last half hour.

Well that person is me ladies and gents, because there happens to be an irritating 40 minute wait between the solo artist I caught the end of (but missed the name of), and the band I came to see. The worst thing is that I can't even get smashed and sleaze some people I've never met because I have to drive, and no matter how long I leave my drink unattended nobody has the decency to spike it and make my evening more interesting. The way I figure it, if I don't intentionally take anything then I'm not being irresponsible. That's what I keep telling myself anyway.

Finally finally finally The Shakes take to the stage. The singer is shorter with smaller hair than I thought he would be, but surprisingly this doesn't bother me too much, despite my slightly irritable mood. They start playing and immediately I realise they're ruddy bloody good, combining Strokes style riffs with structures that make you want to dance that robot dance that everyone seems to like so much at the moment.

If there must be one highlight to pick out then it has to be previous single 'Liberty Jones', a song about some girl who works in a shop and listens to music at work. Although I like the song I'm not sure if I can condone this sort of blatant disregard of workplace etiquette. Speaking of which, I'm pretty sure it's Kevin's turn to make the tea. Can anyone taste the irony of this situation? If not unlucky, 'cos I'm not spelling it out any more than I already have. So there.

Back to the case in point. Having played this place with my own band before I know how difficult it can be. It's a bar, and people are there to drink and talk, not stand in the far corner and watch a band go through their motions of varying quality. However the cheeky-chappyness of front man Ed and some catchy vocal lines afford them more attention than I ever got, and deservedly so.

On a final note, I saw more ginger beards tonight than every other time in my life combined. So if you like that, check out Southampton Union. Peace out.

3 Nov 2006 by Matt S.

Patrick Wolf- Accident & Emergency

2006-11-13T17:40:00.000Z

Originally published at http://www.disordermagazine.com/article.php?id=404
Patrick Wolf- Accident & Emergency

Disappointingly, my most recent conversations with friendly musos concerning Patrick Wolf have been mainly on the topic of his ever-changing hair colour. Despite the ridiculousness of the topic, they have a point. The first album demanded a blonde mane in order to gain confidence, after which he went au natural (black) to execute the stunning Wind In The Wires album. Now, it's red. What could that possibly indicate?

Well, if this hair colour system means anything at all we can draw comparison from that loveable yet terrifying tomboy Pink. So he's a pop star now then. Whether Patrick has taken this change of direction off his own back or is being pushed by his new major record label remains to be seen, however he certainly has the credentials. He's not ugly, he dresses all crazy-like, plus he has the bonus of being a superb song-writer. A pop star who writes his own tunes? Imagine that!

'Accident and Emergency' seems to suggest that converting to pop music is as easy to Wolf as a visit to the salon for a touch-up to his roots. The bleeping effects mould with the driving drums to form a catchy tune that will suit rock clubs and the like down to the ground. The real star of the show though is Wolf's voice, which cuts through with such sincerity that you're hanging off his every word right up until the very last. Expect big things from the upcoming 'The Magic Position' album.

8 out of 10
Released Monday 23rd October on Polydor
23 Oct 2006 by Matt S.

Spektrum- Don’t Be Shy

2006-11-13T17:38:00.000Z

Friday, October 20, 2006
Spektrum- Don’t Be Shy

Originally published at http://www.disordermagazine.com/article.php?id=390

What better way to ensure the consumer gets his/her money's worth than by remixing the shit out of a single multiple times and offering the resulting offal as 'b-sides'? Spektrum are fully aware of this little trick, however as someone once told me, you can't polish a turd. The 'Tugg Cold Turkey Remix' just takes the most irritating noise from the original track and plays it over and over, whilst the other two remixes are worth even less of your varyingly valuable time.

The title track itself is reminiscent of recent Basement Jaxx tracks 'Hush Boy' and 'Oh My Gosh', mainly because of the chaotic dual female vocals. Fans of Basement Jaxx should note that this isn't as good as your beloved, and those of us who hate the Jaxx should remember that this is even worse than their latest offerings.

See, I'd love to write this review without mentioning the fact that listening to this irritates the hell out of me, but I can't avoid something that may very well lead to the end of a life (mine or another at my hand). I mean Christ, where do I begin? All the vocals, the warped sound bytes, the horrific remixes, the apparent denial that this has been done better already (albeit not necessarily 'well'), the fact that I insist on listening to everything that I review from beginning to end several times over to form an honest opinion? It's times like these I wish I was deaf.

1 / 10.

Released October 16th 2006 on Nonstop Recordings
www.spektrum.co.uk
16 Oct 2006 by Matt S.

The Little Explorer - Chair Legs/ Air! Displace This Smoke

2006-11-13T17:37:00.000Z

Friday, October 13, 2006
The Little Explorer - Chair Legs/ Air! Displace This Smoke

The riff that begins first track, "Chair Legs", is a bendy, calming thing that seems to transform into a hypnotic mantra upon repetition. It seems The Little Explorer's trick is to send the listener into a trance from the off, then mold the brain in whichever way they want like a large piece of pink play-dough. By the time the vocals come in it's all gone a bit more frantic, enough to wake anyone from a slumber. Then we're back to being all soothing again. This tune is a serious headf*ck my friends.

Perhaps I'm looking into things in a little too much detail. You have to understand however that a hangover has the strange power to make the person analyze things a mite too far, like some dope fiend on the tail end of an all night binge. At a guess.

It's odd how something so intricate can be so calming. Thanks to the immense tightness of the band's recording it sounds extremely organic and natural. There are no joins anywhere on this CD, just pure living, breathing Little Explorer. Thanks to the drummer's sterling performance and the clever song construction, neither of these tunes have any problem controlling you for the 8 minutes it takes to get through them.

Anyone used to hooks or stomping beats should look elsewhere, but for a technically impressive audio experience this is precisely where to find it.

Originally Published at http://www.the-mag.me.uk/?ArticleId=1321

Adequate 7 - Live (Lo*Chine / Splendid Eddie)

2006-11-13T17:36:00.000Z

Adequate 7 - Live (Lo*Chine / Splendid Eddie)

Sometimes life is slow and boring and other times it's fast and tiring. When it's slow and boring you wish it was faster, and when it's faster you're so bloody knackered you wish it was slower so you could get some damn sleep. On this occasion however, I was glad to wear myself out on two consecutive nights at the Joiners in Southampton, which I will document for you here. You lucky sprites.

As Thursday is so close to the end of the week and nobody does any work on a Friday anyway, I made the wise decision to go and see the much hyped Adequate 7.

First up were Splendid Eddie, who I watched from the back of the venue and I wasn't that impressed to be fair. They have great parts, like the singer and the guitarist for instance, but the brass section just wasn't up to it and was a tad too loud for my liking. It often went a bit Incubus giving the singer a chance to shine, but this wasn't really enough. Beer time methinks.
Having got something to sup I returned to see a bit of Lo*Chine, a Southampton based band even more akin to Incubus than the previous band. The instrumental side of things was impressively tight, as all funk-based bands should be. The bassist and drummer made it look easy, whilst the guitarist grimaced and grooved in much the same way as I do whilst playing stupidly easy riffs on my mates bass guitar (it's all about the funk).

Although the singer was clearly a great talent, it seemed a tad out of place. The angelic vocals seemed more soul than funk, which didn't really make full use of the hooks and grooves being expertly provided. Definitely worth checking out though.

Having never heard a note of Adequate 7 before, I had absolutely no idea what to expect. So let me not beat around the bush when I say that they were one of the best bands I have ever seen perform at Southampton's humble Joiners. If I could type the unpronounceable voices I made whilst witnessing these guys rip it up I would, but being unpronounceable they're pretty much un-type-able too. I suppose the closest thing in audible English is 'pure sex'. Seriously, that good.

Anyone who has heard Adequate 7 before will know what they're like however, for the sake of all else I'll just list the elements that make them up. Funk, punk, rock, hip hop, ska, blah blah blah. It's the best of all of those, capped off with a vocalist who owns the damn stage from the minute he steps onto it.

The main driving force however, is the stunning brass section with the best trumpet player I have ever seen perform live. Everything about this band makes me want to tell you to go and see them. Oh yeah, there's a problem there.

This was their fare-f*cking-well tour, and to cap it off their tour manager was only the trumpet player from Lightyear, yet another great band whom I only discovered on their farewell tour this year (albeit in a stinking barn at Truck festival). When Mr Lightyear got onstage to sing a song I felt so bloody riled that my alcohol intake had convinced me that they were teasing me, waving both bands under my nose and making me realize just how much great live music I've missed from them over the last few years. Luckily I was a pint short of plucking up the courage to slap Mr Lightyear on the head for this, so I patted him on the back for a job well done instead.
An awesome performance.

See their last ever gig in Cardiff in December. You'll thank me for it.

Originally published at http://www.the-mag.me.uk/?ArticleId=1322

Die So Fluid Live (Plastic Toys)

2006-11-13T17:34:00.000Z

Die So Fluid Live (Plastic Toys)

Waking up the next morning my ears were killing me. Mr sound engineer at the Joiners must have cranked it up louder than usual the night before. Oh well, at least it took my mind off the generally crippling hangover that tarred my 6 hours at work. I was right though, no-one concentrates on a Friday. Thank Christ.

So then off to the Joiners again to see a band a friend of mine photographed for their album artwork. At the risk of sounding like a winging old man, since when did the Joiners become a bloody crèche? Now I don't mean to alienate the younger members of The-Mag's audience, because I'm quite confident that the people I am specifically referring to aren't yet at the stage in their development at which they can read for themselves. Maybe their parents have pulled the laptop up to the bedside table for a pre-slumber story from our fair website's pages, and if that is the case it is your parental duty to not let them know they annoy me. Because they do. A lot.

However as David Brent says; "every cloud". There was no queue at the bar, I had no trouble muscling through the thin corridor from the bar to the band room and I've never had a view so completely unobstructed in this smashing venue before. So in return there's something for the rest of The-Mag's audience to relate to. It's funny 'cos it's true isn't it?!
Anyway. The bands.

Due to a bit of hob-nobbing and (more) drinking in the bar area I managed to miss the first three bands, and so I shall not do them a disservice by saying how they sounded from the bar room, because they might have sounded great closer up. Oh dear, I think I've let it slip.
Most people were there to see Plastic Toys anyway and most teenage boys were there to see the pretty darn sexy lady bass player. Nobody likes a critic so I knew I wouldn't stand a chance, thus I let the teenage boys have her. The photographer seemed to favour her side of the stage also. He's not stupid is he?!!

Musically they were extremely tight metal, heavily influenced by what I remember as 'nu-metal', with a large dose of electronica thrown in. Remember Spineshank? Well they reminded me a bit of them. The music was awesomely solid however, the vocals were lacking a bit of ingenuity and provided nothing in the way of hooks. Enjoyable set to watch however, probably for all the wrong reasons.

As if one stunningly hot female musician wasn't enough Die So Fluid also featured a female bassist dressed as something of a maid. As they walked on I was kind of expecting style over substance, with much of the focus (deservedly) on the bassist-singer. However I was soon to eat not my words, but my un-vocalized thoughts. The moment the singer opened her mouth I felt like throwing myself to the feminists. Just amazing.

Such power and attitude. Some of the heavy metal riffs kept me interested for a while, but the main reason why I didn't head off early was because of this angel's incredible voice. Once again I am unable to articulate just how strongly I feel about an aspect of music. Does this make me a bad journalist? No. It makes them too bloody good to write about.

However, don't get confused between my opinions on her voice and the band as a whole, because the total package was less than groundbreaking. That voice rescued otherwise dwindling songs on too many occasions, thus the only other thing that kept me entertained was the fact that the guitarist looked an awful lot like someone I used to go to school with. Boutwell? Is that you?

The great thing about that night at the Joiners was that I left having seen something that left me in awe, and although it was only one part of the total offering, at least it was something. I was certainly not this articulate after the Unit 22 after-party, but you don't need to hear about that. Great start to the weekend.

Originially published at http://www.the-mag.me.uk/?ArticleId=1317

My contribution to Disorder Magazine: September issue

2006-11-13T17:31:00.000Z

Redmile- EP: September 14, 2006

2006-11-13T17:30:00.000Z

Thursday, September 14, 2006
Redmile- EP
Originally published at http://www.the-mag.me.uk/?ArticleId=1270

I really shouldn't like Redmile, they have so much in common with so many bands I really dislike and yet it also seems to have some more over-riding properties that result in me not ripping off the headphones in disgust. They sound like Pearl Jam, Audioslave and various other moderate rock bands that I needn't mention. The relevance of this is only clear when you understand how much this reviewer dislikes Pearl Jam and how bored he has grown of Audioslave's recent mediocre offerings.

One thing you cannot deny about these two bands is that they have phenomenal vocalists, and Dave Salholm of Redmile is up there with Cornell and Vedder. Quite a statement I know, however I dare you to check out the vocals on "Stolen Car" and disagree with me. I know some of you will out of spite, but those of you who do will only be lying to yourselves. Shame on you!

Far as the tunes go, everything fits, and the recording is of reasonably high quality. You get the feeling that every musician in Redmile is more than competent in their respected discipline and, as with all the best musicians, only does what is necessary in order to enhance the song as a whole. These guys understand their genre and nail it with a huge industrial tent peg. I'm aware this is an awful metaphor, but I'm beyond caring. I'm too busy indulging in the guilty pleasures of "La La Rookh" and it's soaringly powerful chorus and verse riffs.

For me this CD completely contradicts what I previously thought about the whole moderate stadium rock genre. I seriously hated it and, whilst I'll never be turned on to the devil incarnate that is Bon Jovi, Redmile has made me realised that it's not all bad. Some of it is in fact good. Like this.

7 out of 10

Matt S.

The Singletons- Live 3 Track EP: Tuesday, September 12, 2006

2006-11-13T17:28:00.000Z

Tuesday, September 12, 2006
The Singletons- Live 3 Track EP

Originally published at http://www.the-mag.me.uk/?ArticleId=1267

When I learned that this offering from the Singletons was a live recording I didn't expect much. My list of humorous derogatory comments was poised and I was ready to be hated by yet another up and coming band. Nothing to do with the band themselves, but more to do with the fact that even professional groups struggle to produce decent live recordings. The format just doesn't lend itself to recording.

But wait a darned cotton-picking second, something just ain't right about this. I can hear the vocals, the bass, the guitar, the drums; geez Louise it's all here! Some genius of a soundman has managed to capture The Singletons in all their live and dangerous glory (albeit with no crowd noise before or after songs, for reasons unknown).

They're tight like a tiger and their tunes are much more than the 'un-pretentious sing-a-longs' that they describe. Their sound is actually quite akin to the Coral, not in musicality but in terms of atmosphere. It's creepy in places, with vocals such as 'love everyone, now kiss my face' erring on the mental side of sanity, thus making for quite an uneasy feeling, capped off by the "Mary had a little lamb" ending to "Going La La".

The mis-hit guitar notes on "Burn All Your Money" are as important as the powerful chord-sequences, giving a sense of passion in the performance. Whether this is intentional I'm not sure, nor do I care. They should leave it in even if they didn't mean it. The male-female vocal combo is a fun, off-the-hook affair also reminiscent of The Pixies' demented wailings. There you go guys and girls, you sound like the Pixies, thus you're clearly much cooler than you think you are (in reference to denial of cool-ness in the press release).

The Singletons are a refreshing listen in a world of self-hyped average punky rock bands (see my recent review on In Darklight) and so are deserving of your attention. Unless of course you like your music to be nice and predictable, in which case look elsewhere.

Matt S.

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

2006-11-13T17:27:00.000Z

Tuesday, September 12, 2006
In Darklight- Foreground/Background EP

Originally published at http://www.the-mag.me.uk/?ArticleId=1261

From the look of the cover I expected In Darklight to sound like Razorlight. I'm fully aware looks should have nothing to do with a band's sound, but when the similarity is this close one can be excused for such a flippant remark. It is an impressively packaged product for a self-released band. Someone either in, or known, to the band is clearly proficient in Photoshop. So well done to them.

Whoever mixed Foreground/Background also deserves praise. Everything's as clear as glass, allowing the song writing to be judged purely on its own merit. Rarely are music journalists allowed this luxury with unsigned bands, so I should count myself lucky I suppose.

Or not, as the case may be. Yes, it all sounds and looks good and no, the songs aren't 'bad' by definition, but why oh why oh why, may I ask, must In Darklight go through the motions so unapologetically. It's like they're saying "yes we know it's nothing special, we know you've heard it before, but look at our sparkly packaging! Open it up! Look! Our lyrics in full!" I'd much rather get a shoddy CDR of pure quality than a tarted-up digipack of monotonous boredom.

And that's the bottom line people. In Darklight mean well I'm sure, but it drags so horribly, and the whiney Liam Gallagher inspired vocals do nothing to help it along. It literally sounds like the singer is doing his best not to emulate Liam, but to take the piss out of him. Just like Oasis the lyrics are clichéd and incoherent anyway, so we needn't worry about song meanings or anything like that. In fact there is nothing specific within these six tracks to get your teeth into. At all.

If you like your indie to plod along in a low-paced, unexciting way, then this is for you. Excellent value however, as this feels like the longest 6-track EP ever to be produced.

Matt S.

Shin Music- 5 tracl EP: September 05, 2006

2006-11-13T17:16:00.001Z

Shin Music- 5 track EP

What a shame I've been a total slacker in regards to reviewing Chin Music's EP. I could line up all kinds of excuses as to why this CD got all lost in my house and I've only just found it, but instead I'll just leave it at that. It got lost, but now I'm listening to it, and by golly am I glad the Borrowers didn't 'borrow' (aka 'steal') this little gem.

You see I'm a bit of a metal-head at heart, and as a result I'm not into the whole emo scene. Each to their own and all that, but it just does nothing for me. The few exceptions are usually bands that take the prog aspects of emo and mix it together with some good old-fashioned rock and roll heaviness. Why am I banging on about this? Because this CD fits into this category. Duh!
There are catchy vocal hooks supported by the singer's (more often than not) powerful Reuben-esque voice and unpredictable arrangements that leave you unable to identify a simple song structure. This, my friends, is a good thing, such as in Tool, Opeth, or Mew songs. These songs drag you in trawl you around for a bit. There is one vital aspect that I haven't mentioned yet, but fear not, I will in the next paragraph.

It's the production, my friends. The vocals are arranged and layered in such a way that we can appreciate the singer's skill and also forget that there is only one singer. The guitars are also expertly balanced, weaving in and out of the forefront of the mix in perfect time to the meticulously crafted sections. It may sound like I know these guys personally, but I don't. I really don't.

If only everything that I found down the back of the sofa was this good. Unfortunately the press release is gone forever (where, I do not know), so all I can tell you is 'Chin Music'. There are five awesome tracks here, and I hope you can all check it out. I also hope my editor can fill you in on the details!

8 out of 10
Matt S.

Paramore - Emergency: August 30, 2006

2006-11-13T17:14:00.000Z

Paramore - Emergency

If theres one thing that makes me enjoy a tune Ive never heard before its a high fist-clenchability factor. One of those choruses with a real Bon Jovi quality to it. Whether it be an honest, emotional raising of the fist or an ironic, over the top one the value of a good power grab should not be understated. Emergency, in case you hadnt already guessed, is a tune with this quality. Pure optimistic emotion pressed squeezed into digital music format.

The opening two bars sound a bit like Mew, a fact that will excite some and dissuade others. For those who dislike Mew the similarity doesnt last long, as it soon goes all Boy Sets Fire-type hardcore. The great thing about Boy Sets Fires Tomorrow Come Today is that the fist-clenching chorus are accompanied by some catchy and original guitar riffs and vocal melodies, whereas Paramore sound like their contemporaries.

The vocalist, Hayley Williams, sounds like many of the Emo frontmen in the current scene, a fact that probably says more about the other guys than her. The mix doesnt really do her voice justice though, layering it so much in the chorus that she starts to sound a bit too much like Claudio Sanchez. The guitars all sound too neat too. Wheres the meat for us to get our teeth into?

The bottom line is that despite repeated plays there really is nothing else that can be said about Paramores Emergency. It simply walks into the room, hangs about for four minutes and then leaves quietly.

6/10

Out on August 21st on Fueled By Ramen Records
www.paramore.net
23 Aug 2006 by Matt Simpson

Russell Edmonds Band - Demo Disc: August 27, 2006

2006-11-13T17:12:00.000Z

Sunday, August 27, 2006

Russell Edmonds Band - Demo Disc

Egads my friends! What have we here? An unsigned band CD with (could it possibly be?) GOOD SOUND?!! Yes indeed, if there is one thing to be said about Russell Edmond's Demo Disc (sounds like a TV show doesn't it?) it's that it has been extremely well mixed and recorded and all that jazz. The sound quality easily stands up next to the latest Oasis album and the second track in particular proves up to the Stereophonics' standards, to the extent of sounding just like "Mr. Writer" on various occasions.

Herein lies the main problem with Russell's music. Despite the sweet, crisp guitars and smooth-sounding voice it really does offer nothing new at all. It's like what Eddie Izzard says about how lots of different recycled things make up a fridge or a plane or another tin can. Edmonds' music just sounds too much like what was happening 8 years ago to be relevant in today's eclectic and vibrant musical context. In Britpop's heyday this would have been at number 1 for sure, but would it exist if Britpop had not already been there and done that? I doubt it.

Despite all this I know there is a big market for Oasis / Beatles / Ocean Colour Scene nostalgia and this certainly qualifies as that. "Dressed as the Enemy" is my personal favourite, mixing those same clichés with more current atmospheric touches such as haunting violin backing a la Decemberists that give Edmonds the extra dimension of interest that the other two tracks lack.

Once the immediate influences are exhausted Russell Edmonds has the potential to produce some really fantastic pop tunes. For now however, he seems to have settled for emulating his heroes.

6 out of 10

Matt S.

Lilys - A Dianas Diana/With Candy- August 16th, 2006

2006-11-13T17:08:00.000Z

Originally published at http://www.disordermagazine.com/article.php?id=89

Lilys - A Dianas Diana/With Candy

Theres a real attitude in the press release that accompanies this Lilys release, with the general message of if you dont like it you can go fuck yourself, oh and in case you were wondering Kurt Heasley is a musical genius, has been since he was 15 and is now at the forefront of the single father pop star renaissance. Three kids is what hes got, and he loves them to bits Im sure. Why have I made this remark? None of my business? Precisely. Lets focus, people.

This Lilys single is like a long standing corn on the second-to-smallest toe that doesnt hurt much. You know you should really hate it and it shouldnt be there, but really you quite like it. Once you get used to the seemingly reversed vocal lines A Dianas Diana seeps in like sleazy coked-up funk, leaving you trapped inside an inverted disco ball of reflected light and relaxation. Seriously, thats as close as I can come to describing it. Much like a spun out Saturday night its never clear if or when it will stop or where its leading. Until it does stop, and With Candy starts.

The second track is just as meandering and demands to be swayed to. Who needs class As when youve got piercing, slightly off key chords jamming in your lughole? Tony Blair listened to Lilys once at a party, but he didnt inhale.

Its tough bringing up kids alone, so buy this for the children.

6/10

Released August 14th on Rocket Girl

http://www.myspace.com/thelilys

14 Aug 2006 by Matt S.

She Wants Revenge - She Wants Revenge album review

2006-07-24T23:23:00.000+01:00

She Wants Revenge - She Wants Revenge

The 80s eh? Who ever thought the decade that bred the synthesizer would ever make a comeback? I, for one, did not; predicting any kind of return to the age of New Romantics and electronic pop records to be an event that could only result in more examples of drab, and frankly embarrassing electro tunes. Then came The Strokes, Bloc Party, and Interpol, who bunched my words into bite sized chunks and force-fed them to me in turn. I have seen what synth can do, and I like it.

So why was I so convinced it wouldnt work? What was I expecting? Why did I think a 80s revival would be so banal? Thankfully, I dont have to wrack my brains for an answer, as She Wants Revenge have put together 14 tracks of uninspired beats that encapsulate precisely what I thought back then.

As the album begins it sounds like someone messing about with a Casio in year 8 music class, with wooden, soulless electronic hi-hat and snare sounds driving a repetitive guitar riff (with eerie drifty effect). The vocals are even less interesting, drawling along like Interpols Paul Banks with a mouthful of dentists anesthetic. Track after track I sit bored waiting for a hook or an interesting lyric to grab me, but it never does. I enjoy the 2 minutes 30 seconds of Disconnect but only because those dreary vocals are absent and it sounds a bit like a vastly superior Opeth song.

The more I listen to She Wants Revenge the less I see any point in it even existing, as it provides us with nothing new in terms of genre or even innovation within a genre. There is absolutely no need for fans of the genre to spend good money on this toss whilst the likes of Joy Division, Depeche Mode and The Pet Shop Boys still line the shelves of the rock and pop section.

Quite how Tear You Apart managed to top LAs Kroq Radio chart for 14 weeks is beyond me. Admittedly this track has more to it than any other on the album (the vocals wander off the normal monotone), but its still repetitive and ultimately irritating. Black Liner Run is an excellent end to the album, ensuring that if you havent already grown tired of this drivel youll definitely snap it out of the CD player before the pretentious 51 tracks of silence and secret bonus track force themselves upon you.

Do yourself a favour, demand that this review is taken off this site immediately and do your best to erase all knowledge of this albums existence. If only that thing from Men in Black was real.

2 out of 10

www.shewantsrevenge.com

24 Jul 2006 by Matt S.

Three Day Benda - Sounds of the Suburbs LP review

2006-07-08T20:12:00.000+01:00

Three Day Benda - Sounds of the Suburbs LP review.
Originally published at: http://www.the-mag.me.uk/?ArticleId=1157

Seeing Three Day Benda live (as I did at their recent album launch party at the Wedgewood Rooms) is always a lot of fun. The performances regularly contain more energy than the other bands combined and they seem to genuinely enjoy what they do. The release of their debut album entitled "Sounds of the Suburbs" is an opportunity to dissect the music separately from the stage show, something I have to do after enjoying their live shows so much.

First of all I think it's important to define the genre we're dealing with here. It isn't punk, it isn't rock, it isn't ska, but more of an amalgamation of these and several other sub-genres. Rather than emulating their heroes as many up and coming bands tend to do, Three Day Benda have managed to create their own brand of ska-punk-rock that is more interesting than ska and less pretentious than emo whilst harnessing the best elements of both. The title track, "The Understanding", and "MRV" demonstrate TDB's rock foundations that underpin every track on the album, with the hooks and grooves provided by the brass section.

The sleazy porn soundtrack anthem "Conscious, But No Conscience" has a brass riff that is used minimally but to great effect. In great contrast to this is the infectious hook in "Elements of Confusion", supported by a fantastically atmospheric bridge section that changes the feel of the tune before a chorus that verges on fist-clenching epic-ness. Live favourite "Matter of Decision" is a skanktastic track seemingly specifically designed to get people dancing around at the end of a gig, or in this case their living room.

These examples serve to illustrate where Three Day Benda's strengths lie. By combining several different genres TDB are able to construct songs that aren't bound by conventions of one specific genre, resulting in an album that is surprisingly diverse for what could be construed at first glance as 'just another ska band'.

What separates them from this potential tarring is the ethic that seems to drive the band, namely the mission to create songs that sound good above all else. Nowhere on this CD can we hear an individual attempting to emulate his heroes or going overboard with intricate fills on his instrument. Each member of the band does what is required and nothing more, which makes for a product greater than the sum of its parts.

Not that the parts are all that bad either, as the flawless performances on the recording demonstrate. The Old Blacksmiths studio staff have done a good job of mixing too, with the overall sound of the album deserving of the distribution deal attached to it. It all sounds great from start to finish, both in terms of sound quality and song writing.

As with the album launch party performance, there really is no bad track on 'Sounds of the Suburbs' and there is plenty here to appeal to fans of any of the aforementioned genres. Finally I have company in my CD collection for the Mad Caddies' 'Quality Soft Core'. The question is 'which is better?' I honestly couldn't choose right now.

Matt S.

Love Is All- Nine Times That Same Song album review

2006-07-04T01:27:00.000+01:00

Love Is All- Nine Times That Same Song
Originally published at http://www.disordermagazine.com/article.php?id=309

Calling your CD ‘Nine Times That Same Song’ could be seen by many as tempting fate. It’s just begging to be palmed off as a pun by some lazy music journalist eager to take advantage of any snappy taglines that might offer themselves up. I’ll admit I considered it, because there are many elements of Love Is All’s tunes that sound the same, but then I reckon it’s OK for bands to occasionally sound like themselves. Also, there are ten tracks on the album rather than nine, so it would never work anyway.

Upon first listen Love Is All are confusing. The beats hop about like mad and the vocals are layered with generous dollops of reverb that harks to ska and dub influences. To be blunt, it sounds messy. A few more listens reveal my mistake however, as this is not the kind of music to be enjoyed sitting down with headphones on. To get the most out of LIA one must crank it up on a decent sound system and dance about like a released loony.

Most are aware of the reaction Madness’ ‘Baggy Trousers’ gets when played at a rock club, as well as how sweaty most people end up after thrashing about to Razorlight. Well take the freestyle trumpet and vocal style from the former and the driven, aggressive guitars of the latter and you’ve got the essence of LIA. Opener ‘Talk Talk Talk Talk’ establishes the band’s desire to be your freak-out soundtrack with its raw, cracked style and The Rapture-esque epic guitar sound. ‘Aging Had Never Been His Friend’ was tailor made to be marched to in that uber-cool jerky way ‘scene’ people do, and in this case you may even catch the ‘too cool to dance’ crowd unable to control their feet, legs, arms, and head.

Dancing amateurs beware however, as you will need more than one move in your stuff-strutting arsenal to jive along with all 30 minutes 39 seconds on offer here. ‘Turn the Radio Off’, ‘Make Out Fall Out Make Up’, ‘Felt Tip’, and ‘Turn the TV Off’ will all require something a bit more contained on the dance floor. I recommend the Karen O vogue influenced style or perhaps the Arcade Fire ‘stand around staring at the ceiling completely absorbed by the bassline’. Either will do just fine.

If dance impulse allows take a bit of time out to appreciate the female singer’s expertise. The Swedish accent means many ‘s’ sounds are pronounced as ‘shh’, making for a vocal style full of Scandinavian charm. This is an album that improves with every listen, and is thus deserving of your investment and time.

8 out of 10

Released 3rd July on Parlophone

3 Jul 2006 by Matt S

The Suffrajets- Worthy! single review

2006-06-26T14:01:00.000+01:00

The Suffrajets- Worthy! single review
Originally posted at http://www.disordermagazine.com/article.php?id=230

If there’s one positive thing to be said about the cheap thrills media circus that is Pete Doherty and his band Babyshambles it has to be the fact that former drummer Gemma Clarke got out. She’s the smart one, because having Doherty out of your life must bring a certain amount of calm and peace of mind that just doesn’t seem to exist in Pete’s general area of being. One thing he does ensure however is attention and therefore album and ticket sales, something that Gemma will now have to achieve purely on musical terms with her pre-Babyshambles band The Suffrajets.

‘Worthy!’ is the first offering in the band’s new era, and just to make Gemma feel at home they’ve thrown together a tune that sounds just like Babyshambles from start to finish. The clean electric guitar that establishes the rhythm is of the same sluggish jaunt as ‘F*ck Forever’ but none of the charm, whilst the main guitar hook has a horrible habit of getting lodged in the brain with intent to annoy rather than entertain, something made all the worse by it’s incessant repetition that seems to suggest the lead guitarist can perform no other lick.

On top of this we have a vocalist who insists on singing with a forced croak that is begging so desperately to be accepted into the sleaze rock elite it’s actually embarrassing to listen to. Whilst some may enjoy ‘Worthy!’s’ swinging beat most, like me, will find it monotonous and pretentious.

3/10

Released June 26th on Beyond Bedlam Recordings

26 Jun 2006 by Matt S.

Three Day Benda - Live (Chub / Humungous Douglas / Zero Consent / Pickled Dick)

2006-06-25T22:06:00.000+01:00

Three Day Benda - Live (Chub / Humungous Douglas / Zero Consent / Pickled Dick)
Originally posted at http://www.the-mag.me.uk/?ArticleId=1126

For a while now Three Day Benda have been plugging tonight's album launch party to me, but they need not have badgered me quite so relentlessly. As a keen admirer I was always going to be here, not just because of my fondness for the music but also out of my curiosity as to what sort of a crowd they draw and how the occasion affects their performance. Before all that though there is the small matter of support bands. First up are Chub...

...whom I miss, so we'll say no more about them and go straight to Humungous Douglas, a punk band infamous for having an electric violin as part of their setup. Occasionally this is a marvel of ingenuity, providing interesting nuggets of sound that really enhance the otherwise average flat out punk songs however, more often that not it merely makes it all sound a bit more Celtic. Rather than using it sparingly Douglas use it to underpin the rhythm guitar, shadowing every chord that is played. This results in a performance void of any dynamics, which is disappointing but can and probably will be ironed out in time.

Last time I saw Zero Consent they were being supported by Three Day Benda at Southampton Joiners, so perhaps this is them returning the favour. The problem I have with their quirky pop punk style is that I value musical ability as the single most important thing about live shows, whereas ZC seem to think silly voices and fart jokes will cover for their uninteresting brass-tinged brand of punk. The frontman's Napoleon Dynamite shirt kept my attention at the Joiners show, but he isn't wearing that tonight. Time for a beer then.

A lot has been said to me about Pickled Dick in the past, all of which has been good but always accompanied with a warning. "They're amazing" I'm often told, "but as poppy as butterscotch popcorn" (disclaimer: not a direct quote), a tout that I fear but really need not, as tonight PD succeed in changing my views on sickeningly sweet pop-punk. This three piece are as tight as the guitarist's floral dress and as mad as his poodle-topped head, thrashing through three minute wonders that utilize the flawlessly executed Less Than Jake inspired vocals from the man on the bass. A low point is reached when the guitarist gets his 'goods' out, but is quickly compensated with a genuinely funny thank-you to his own guitar solo for being 'incredible as usual'. Pickled Dick; I am a fan.

So now is Three Day Benda's time; headlining the Wedgewood Rooms and promoting their newly released album entitled "Sounds of the Suburbs". The cover of the album displays the Spinnaker Tower, a structure synonymous with Portsmouth as well as TDB's affinity with the town that is obvious from the moment they kick off their set. Trombones and trumpets are thrown about and flash in the overhead lights as the deceptively menacing-looking singer skulks within his stage territory ready to snarl and croon through the headline set. As they do it's clear that anyone enjoying this performance can't possibly be enjoying it as much as the Benda guys are.

Highlights include "Conscious, but no Conscience" with it's sleazy brass-let intro, and the ska-tastic "The Understanding" which provides an excellent excuse for all the skankers in the audience to get their groove on, which of course they do.

Truth be told, there is not a weak song in the set and there is no need for the Feeder cover that they have apparently been rolling out recently. The album is brought to life tonight by a band that play as if their lives depended on it; probably one of the reasons why Positive Impact Records agreed to distribute it nationwide. Go see Three Day Benda whenever you get the chance, because it may cost you a few bob more in the not too distant future.

Matt S.

The Go Team - Hi Fi Festival Live (Director / Kharma 45)

2006-06-25T22:04:00.000+01:00

The Go Team - Hi Fi Festival Live (Director / Kharma 45)
Originally published at: http://www.the-mag.me.uk/?ArticleId=1124

The first guitar I hear today belongs to Director, a timid looking bunch of lads from Dublin. As soon as they start playing it becomes clear that their apparent nervous disposition is totally unnecessary.

Their speciality is indie-lite in the vein of Interpol or Franz Ferdinand, although these guys are actually a hell of a lot tighter than Franz have been on the occasions I have seen them live. The chorus' sports delightful vocal harmonies and every strike of the precise guitar playing can be heard in detail, making their modest stage presence seem entirely intentional in order to let the music do the talking. Such a shame there weren't more people here to experience this, although you can't expect a dance crowd to flock in their droves to the first indie band of the day.

A quick wander around the site reveals what most of these festival-goers would rather be doing. Dance and drum n base tents are writhing masses of sweaty, dancing bodies; the Godskitchen tent feels like a nightclub already and it's only 3pm. After a bit of a dance I realise it's time to go and see the next band. Shame.

I return just in time to see Kharma 45 take to the stage, bursting on with a danceable synth backed Kasabian-style tune. In fact all of their tunes sound like Kasabian and have synth backing, resulting in an uninspired and unoriginal set that wears very thin very quickly.

The band themselves seem nervy, especially the frontman who doesn't seem able to look anywhere other than at the roof of the tent. I get slightly excited when I hear what I think is a cover of 'Concrete Beats', however it just turns out to be a lesser rip-off of said song. This is the highlight of their set, which really isn't saying much.

As Kharma 45 saunter off the tent starts to fill a bit, and by the time The Go Team come on the place is packed. As anyone who has ever heard of this band can testify, they are extremely hard to pigeon-hole in terms of genre. There are elements of rock, rap, R n B, disco, and most importantly for this festival, dance music. Now we see the Live Tent's first bit of dancing for the day, led by hyperactive and aptly named front woman Ninja, who's seemingly uncontrollable set-long high-kicking grooving is the perfect accompaniment to the feel-good tunes the band performs.

Tunes recognizable to me are hits "Ladyflash" and "Bottle Racket" although everything they play is of the same high standard and keeps the high-spirited vibe flowing for their entire hour-long set. A few casual comments from Ninja regarding an inflatable sex doll ("somebody's girlfriend") and her delight in playing the festival receive rapturous applause, evidence of just how well these hybrid-genre pioneers go down today. The Go Team set 'em up, now it's up to the remainder of the line-up to knock 'em down.

During the half hour of kit changeover I get chatting to an older gentleman named Sammy who claims to be a talent scout. I am genuinely impressed when he tells me of his days touring with bands such as Black Sabbath, and his various tales of travelling the country waiting for the next big thing to fall on his lap. The illusion is somehow shattered however when I turn round to find him crawling on the floor checking paper cups to see if they contain any dregs of beer. A few of them do. "Still cold", he chirps. I feel the sudden urge to wash the hand I shook his with.

Matt S.

Koogaphone - Live @ Southampton Nexus, 26/05/06

2006-06-25T22:02:00.000+01:00

Koogaphone - Live @ Southampton Nexus, 26/05/06
Originally puclished at: http://www.the-mag.me.uk/?ArticleId=1115

Finding the Nexus with minutes to spare, I pass the entrance and see several people queuing outside to get in. "Looks like it could be busy tonight" I think to myself as I park my car in the spot most likely to minimize the chance of a break in (anyone who has been to the Nexus will know what I mean). Damage limitation sorted, I jog to the entrance of the venue, not wanting to miss any of Koogaphone, a band that I have never heard of but checked out beforehand and quite enjoyed.

I need not have panicked however, as the place is deserted. Those people I had seen queuing to get in are the only non-band or bar related personnel in the building, and there are 3 of them. Things are running slightly behind schedule, however I get the feeling the organizers are allowing a bit more time for more people to turn up. This doesn't happen, so Koogaphone take to the stage in front of a large empty dancefloor intended to entertain lively drunken gig-goers.

Before going on the lack of audience doesn't seem to affect the band members, and they take to the stage with the sort of swagger expected of a much bigger band playing a much fuller venue. From the off these guys and gals are clearly enjoying being onstage; the tall guitarist hunches over his guitar wrestling with his axe in a competition he's never going to win and I have never seen anyone so amazingly delighted to be playing the bass. The front woman is putting on her own little show too, crooning and gyrating like some possessed guitar-wielding temptress. Gulp.

This is the general experience for the first few songs, but the strain of performing in front of next to no-one eventually starts to show. The drummer seems to lose interest pretty quickly and is soon just going through the motions, whilst that tall guitarist seems to have admitted defeat in the battle between man and 6-string. Perhaps it's that stereotypical male need for pride that's to blame, because the girls admirably maintain their composure throughout. The front woman is full of attitude, sounding like the Be Your Own Pet vocalist covering Fleetwood Mac, whilst that bassist still won't stop grinning.

The girls are Koogaphone's not-so-secret secret weapon, ensuring they maintain stage presence as well as displaying some vocal harmonies that add that extra little touch of quality to the frankly muddy sound in this huge empty room. Alright so many of their songs sound similar and the plodding drum/guitar section designed to build tension is wasted on this occasion, but as Smashy (or Nicey, I can never remember which) declares the end of their set, the band are victorious, performing in circumstances that lesser bands would have submitted to from the off.

Matt S.

Futureheads - News and Tributes album review

2006-06-25T22:01:00.000+01:00

Futureheads - News and Tributes album review
Originally published at http://www.disordermagazine.com/article.php?id=279

Here it comes, washing over us in a massive all-consuming wave with the ability to take everything away. Some will survive and make it through to see many glorious and successful years ahead of them, whilst many others will find themselves treading water before fading into the abyss. Who will float? Who will drown? What is this wave I speak of? The purpose of this slightly tenuous metaphor is to illustrate the glut of dreaded second albums that are due to start flooding our way. Bands such as Kaiser Chiefs and Hard-Fi could lose it all with a poor record in much the same way as The Darkness, and now its The Futureheads time of judgment. So how to they fare?

One of the first things to note is the pace of this collection of 12 songs. No longer is almost every song a precise punky 3 minutes of pop in the vein of The Clash or The Knacks My Sherona. Fallout is our first example of how The Futureheads manage to retain that trademark jerky rhythm whilst displaying a sound that has truly evolved since their self-titled debut. Rather than rushing the listener along with a furious beat this track has an epic relaxing quality that massages the ears with a haunting set of harmonies that displays the impressive vocal talent within the band. In fact the whole album is sort of a showcase for font man Barry Hydes ability to be much more than just an impersonator of Paul Weller in his Jam era.

As the angular guitar riffs take a back seat the vocals take centre stage, allowing Hyde to croon and soar with all the confidence of a man certain of his ability and a point to prove. He sounds excited to be given a second stab at the album lark and is using the platform to show us his bands versatility. Burnt is an acoustically-led melancholic number, with dark, haunting verses mixed with an uplifting chorus that once again displays the excellent harmonic vocal style that is such a powerful weapon in this intricate set of tunes.

Despite the change, fans of the old Futureheads material need not fret. Yes/No and Skip to The End stand out as being as chant-along-able as Hounds of Love, although there are changes even to the style of potential singles on this album. The old precise guitar sound has been roughened up a bit, and is most notable in Return of The Bezerker in which guitars are thrashed around at a ridiculous rate of knots with the energy of men years their junior. Whereas the first album presented what The Futureheads could perform, News and Tributes is a testament to their true creative prowess, signaling a recording career potentially more varied and intriguing than the entertaining yet samey debut suggested. Hopefully the Kaisers and Hard-Fi are paying attention, although Justin Hawkins should probably ignore this to avoid developing a bitter sense of jealousy.

8/10

Released May 29th on 679 Recordings

www.thefutureheads.com

30 May 2006 by Matt S.

Betty Curse - Excuse All the Blood/ Met on the Internet EP Review

2006-06-25T21:59:00.000+01:00

Betty Curse - Excuse All the Blood/ Met on the Internet EP Review
Originally published at http://www.disordermagazine.com/article.php?id=195

According to Betty Curse's publicity she is the poster girl for the new goth-pop generation. Now, either I'm walking around with my eyes and ears closed or this new generation has been dreamt up in an attempt to create a new genre and corner it before anyone else realises it exists. Granted, Betty Curse provides pleasing pop songs but neither song on this double a-side contains any identification with the goth genre at all.

Excuse All the Blood is a fist pumping meander through teeny bopping pop, laced with in-no-way-gothic guitars that represent the extremely thin separation between Curse and genre-hopping poppers such as Kelly Clarkson. Rock music is currently in fashion (Thin Lizzy and Avenged Sevenfold shirts line the high street), a fact that both the aforementioned artists are attempting to capitalize on by using imagery and stylists to make their audiences forget that what they are listening to is essentially bubblegum pop.

Second track Met on the Internet is so un-gothic it borders on sleazy cock-rock, a genre that Curse manages to imitate and nothing more. I doubt Velvet Revolver would consider this as a filler on a B-side album, such is the uninspired monotony of the riffs and vocal hooks. It may fool younger fans with less experience of the music Curse carelessly recycles on this single, however I'm intrigued to see how the Download crowd at Castle Donington will take to Betty after experiencing Arch Enemy or Hatebreed. Im hedging my bets on not well.

4/10

Released 29th May on Island Records

29 May 2006 by Matt S.

Senser - Live (AMOKi + Kyoto)

2006-06-25T21:57:00.000+01:00

Senser - Live (AMOKi + Kyoto) @ Southampton Joiners
Originally published at: http://www.the-mag.me.uk/?BandId=865

Pitching up at the request of Kyoto I rush into the Joiners hoping and praying that I haven't missed their set. Other than the fact that these guys are playing tonight I know nothing of the evening, such is the organisation by which my everyday life is led. The guy on the door doesn't have my name down but seems to recognize me by now and I rush through to the stage area where a band is just starting up.

Standing relatively close up to appreciate the full impact of this band (and also to try and figure out whether or not this is Kyoto), I'm surprised by the excellent sound pumping out of the guitarist's amp and the PA. The Joiners usually has great sound but these guys have sorted out their levels just right, allowing the soulful vocals and groovy, grungy riffs to hit the audience with full force. There are elements of Muse, Incubus and Jimmy Eat World in this soaring vocal line, not to mention the confident smirk of Jack Black that lines the front man's stage presence. This 3 piece fills the stage with such confidence it's hard to believe that they're the first on tonight.

The music itself is hard to pin down as the set is kept lively with elements of funk and thrash that intersect the grunge basis of the sound. This is the difference between seeing these lads tonight and seeing countless other unsigned bands of the same genre; I'm watching what is essentially a chord-based rock band with simple arrangements but I'm not exactly sure what will come next. It holds my attention and I can't help but grin at some of these infectious riffs. As I await the next thrash intersection I overhear someone mention that this is Kyoto. Well I'm glad I enjoy it, this makes obtaining a CD for review a whole lot easier.

Following that nice surprise it's time for AMOKi, a band made up of old members of Dilutral and Modular Series. Former Dilutral front man Kai Harris has a fantastic voice that manages to be tuneful and angry at the same time, offering an intriguing mix with the metal electronica going on behind him. The overall sound however is extremely bass-heavy, rendering any intricate guitar work incoherent. If you like things that are extremely heavy (which I normally do) there's plenty of that here, however that's about all there is.

Aside from Kai's impressive vocals AMOKi are extremely repetitive, thrown back from the days of nu-metal when guitarists only needed 2 fingers and solos were outlawed. There are no hooks here, no ripping riffs, just sludgy heaviness garnished with industrial electronic beats that seem to come as standard with their tunes. It's something to bang your head to, which a large proportion of the crowd enjoy doing to AMOKi. Fair enough if that's all you're interested in, but I want more from my metal.

There seems to be quite a buzz around Senser, tonight's headliners. They have a silly number of albums for sale at the merch stand and the population tonight seem extremely excited about the set. Judging by the applause they are welcomed on with many of you reading this know far more about this band than I do, so I'll just paint a brief picture for those that don't. Senser is how rap metal should be done. This isn't Limp Bizkit or Papa Roach whinging about wanting to break stuff etc, this is in a House of Pain, Rage Against the Machine, and (for the more chilled out songs) Faithless vein.

The rhythm section consists of the drummer, bassist, and guitarist and is as tight as you like, allowing the dual vocalists and DJ to take the limelight and entertain the crowd. Tune after tune presents pleasing guitar riffs underpinned by the 'phattest' rumbling bass lines known to man. Speaking of man, most of them here tonight are totally transfixed on the female singer's 60s-type hip-shaking that runs from the first song to the very end of the last (as possibly beyond, I'm not entirely sure). Having come here expecting very little I leave cursing myself for not realising this band existed 6 years ago when rap metal was my thing.

"The end of the world show is a re-run" I sing to myself homeward. Check 'em out and it will all become clear.

Matt S.

System of a Down – Vicinity of Obscenity EP

2006-06-25T21:56:00.000+01:00

System of a Down – Vicinity of Obscenity EP
Originally posted at http://www.disordermagazine.com/article.php?id=37

Following a brief spell of recording and touring inactivity, SOAD announce their return with their first release since 2005's Mezmerize Hypnotize dual album set in the form of a download-only EP containing Vicinity of Obscenity and Lonely Day from the Hypnotize album.

Pointless I hear you cry. Ive got the album, and Ive already got these tracks. If this is the case what youre really paying for is Shame, a raucous rap-rock romp featuring Wu Tang Clan, a cover of Black Sabbaths Snowblind and Metro, a tune that appears on the Dracula 2000 soundtrack.

Whilst Shame might put a few fans off with its Ill fuck yer ass up elements of American rap culture it also shows how rap-rock should be done, still retaining the all-important quirkiness of SOAD's usual material. Snowblind follows in a similar way, avoiding the possible pitfalls of covering such a classic tune by being almost completely unrecognizable from its original incarnation. The main riffs are in there however, and a tribute is paid to Ozzy's familiar vocal style via liberal amounts of distortion applied to Serj's voice in the middle section (Don't ya think I know what I'm doin).

The final track Metro is the final treat for SOAD fans; a raw sounding behemoth that harks back to the simpler self-titled album days. As an example of the bands current musical diversity this EP is a must buy for devoted fans, and also acts as an Armenian-American pick-and-mix for occasional listeners.

7 /10

Released May 29th on American/Columbia Records

22 May 2006 by Matt S.

Ctrlaltdelete - Mondegreens EP

2006-06-25T21:55:00.000+01:00

Ctrlaltdelete - Mondegreens EP
Originally posted at http://www.the-mag.me.uk/?ArticleId=1103

My, hasn't music progressed these past few years? No longer are the charts filled with endless club anthem related drivel and Celine Dion film soundtrack snippets. Now that we have the Arctic Monkeys and the Kooks people are listening to guitar bands again and the general public are a lot more open minded than they were. Could this mark the time for bands such as ctrlaltdelete with no vocalist, to step forward and be counted? Why not? Just so long as it sounds good people will generally listen nowadays.

Judging from the overly long song titles ctrlaltdelete seem to have a problem with the written word in general, however this is one of those CDs that you'll never look at; it'll whirr around in your CD player whilst you 'experience' it, during which time song titles seem irrelevant. Opener "Each of these innocents..." establishes the epic sound that carries through the entire 4-track, displaying section after seamlessly flowing section. Every track follows a similar pattern of play that utilises dynamics in a unique way; a style that usually works live but more often than not loses its impact when recorded (as with 65 Days of Static).

For the hardy listener willing to pay attention there is much to be taken from "mondegreens"; pretty much every section shows impressive musicianship and manages to create an enjoyable sense of melancholy that insists on escapism (you can certainly drift off to this). The real annoyance of it all is that so many of these sections would benefit greatly from the one thing that sets ctrlaltdelete apart; a singer. Some soaring echoed vocals are all it would take to transform ctrlaltdelete's sound from impressive to the sort of stuff that gives you goose-pimples.

Although I'm certain that last comment won't go down well with the band, the fact remains that this is an extremely impressive set of songs, if not a bit too much hard work for the casual listener. Get it and give it many listens to extract it's true worth. I certainly have.

Matt S.

Kyoto- Attention Deficit Disorder LP

2006-06-25T21:53:00.000+01:00

Kyoto- Attention Deficit Disorder LP
Originally posted at http://www.the-mag.me.uk/?ArticleId=1100

One dreary night in St Mary's, Southampton a little known music journalist bared witness to a little known local band named Kyoto. He was impressed. He liked the heaviness mixed with angelic vocals. He liked the authority with which they stormed the Joiners upon that evening. All of which was magnified when the following band of the night paled in comparison to Kyoto. That journalist is me by the way, and now I have their CD in my grubby little hands to pass critical eye over.

If there's one thing that sticks in my mind about Kyoto's performance that night it's the infectious main riff on opener "Sequel". Criminally simple (perhaps the secret to its success), it lodges itself inside your head and refuses to budge, and it's certainly obvious why the lads chose this cracker to kick the album off with. "...and More" continues the trend with a majestically sweeping vocal line in the chorus (at least I think it's a chorus) that contrasts with the minimalist verses. So far, so good.

The third track, "Green", calms things down a bit with it's eerie verses that leads into a calculated outro lasting roughly 3 minutes, signalling Kyoto's fondness for songs pushing the 6 minute mark. In fact more than half of the 11 tracks on A.D.D. require your ears for roughly 6 minutes, a length that in some cases can prove slightly too long. "Blush" for example contains a verse that begins to lose its charm after being repeated 4 or 5 times, as well as having a section of vocals that sounds far too much like a line in Audioslave's "Getaway Car" (not that the latter comment matters too much, I just can't stop thinking about it).

Kyoto's ambition seems to have outreached their (or their sound engineer's) ability in several instances, such as the floaty filler sounds at the beginning of "2 Ft Tall" that appear clearer and more powerful than the actual song they lead into. Once the track kicks in we are greeted by a muffled vocal effect that just sounds cheap and nasty as opposed to the restrained layered vocals found earlier on "Sequel", a track that seems to have raised the bar slightly too high for the remainder of the album.

It's not that any of the music is badly written, (quite the opposite in fact aside from the odd overly long track) it's the way in which it's executed on record that lets Kyoto down. Having felt the power of these riffs and soaring vocals live, its hard not to feel slightly disappointed at how this vital element of their sound has been lost in the recording process. Rocking tracks such as "The Principal" lose almost all their power due to sloppy layering of effects and vocals that seem to have taken attention away from simple issues such as the guitarist's fuzzy (and again cheap) sounding guitar sound. Some of these licks are truly rocking but sit too far back in the mix resulting in an album that has a 'samey', uninspiring sound throughout.

Although a lot about Attention Deficit Disorder screams over ambition, this is not to say it is a bad album. Kyoto are a good rock band that make good (occasionally heavy) music, however you know what they say about too much of a 'good' thing. Why record a 68 minute album when 40 will do?

Final track "Thanks For Your Concern" is a 3 minute acoustically-led meander through bare-bones rock music. Different and interesting; such a shame the same cannot be said for the rest of the album.

Matt S.

Secluded - Live (Equilibria / In Hail / Inarchy)- 05/05/06

2006-06-25T21:52:00.000+01:00

Secluded - Live (Equilibria / In Hail / Inarchy)- 05/05/06 @ Southampton Joiners
Originally published at: http://www.the-mag.me.uk/?ArticleId=1086

Having never heard any of the bands on tonight's bill I approach with a certain level of self-induced optimism. My recent 'grumpy old man' act helped to hone my critical eye but has gone a bit mad recently, ruling my every music-related thought and threatening to never let me enjoy music ever again. My way of thinking was beginning to become me; not altogether recommended when your duties involve being fair and open-minded.

The first band to try and take advantage of my good mood are Equilibria; a Southampton based rock band that begins with one song minus a singer, and should have stayed like that. The music is quite catchy and quite well constructed (some riffs reek of decent Tool), however the front man seems unable to pronounce consonants, resulting in a sort of 'Glassjaw with a lisp' sound that quickly becomes plain ridiculous. It also soon becomes clear that this style does not suit rapping (or 'oowapping'). He does have an awesome scream though that is criminally under-used.

Next up are fellow Southamptoners, In Hail. The sight of the drummer wearing their own band t-shirt triggers my old pessimistic self, but I swallow hard and put it out of my mind to remain objective. All their mates in the audience start bobbing their heads to these mid-tempo epics (in size, not quality) and don't need to stop until the last song is played, down to the fact that every tune has the same bloody beat. Add to that wanky guitar solos nobody can hear and guitar-playing stances that appear to have been worked on more than the music and you've got yourself a recipe for a mosh pit. This is the logic the friends of the family in the audience work off, which, coincidentally, is the moment I get thirsty. Saved by the bar.

Fearing the worst, I return to watch over Inarchy's performance. Luckily for Inarchy, the bar hasn't exactly been set very high and they manage to eclipse the preceding two acts simply by playing music I haven't heard a million times before. Admittedly it isn't the tightest of sounds and the singing isn't the strongest I've heard, but there is section after section of differing riffs and grooves tied together in a nice prog-metal bundle by one of the best local drummers I have seen in a long time. I'm having a good time until the 'karaoke' section in which the front man sings "it's getting hot in here, so take off all your clothes", swiftly followed by such hilarious comments as 'big up your bad selves' and a constant referral to the new Tool album with "God damn, shit the bed". Again, I'm suddenly thirsty. How convenient.

So it's down to the headliners Secluded to rescue me from this pit of unfunny-frontman in-joke despair. Mounting the stage in all their 3-piece glory the boys get stuck in and from the off it's clear we have our first genuinely impressive vocalist of the night. They're very good at what they do, but unfortunately what they do is average drifty rock songs with chorus' that are repeated several dozen times to make up the structure of the songs. There isn't an awful lot going on onstage and it's a welcome change when the front man performs a few acoustic tunes. Here he displays his guitar-playing talent, but the amount of chorus' in each song gets very irritating very quickly. If it wasn't for that and the emotive love ballad subject matters in every song they could be on to a winner.

All in all tonight feels less like a gig and more like I'm gatecrashing a private function for somebody's 16th birthday party. No doubt we'll be seeing a few of these musicians doing altogether better things with their instruments in a couple of years though.

Matt S.

Be Your Own PET @ Wedgewood Rooms 7/04/06

2006-06-25T21:49:00.000+01:00

Be Your Own Pet w. Room 99 @ Wedgewood Rooms 7/04/06
Originally posted at http://www.disordermagazine.com/article.php?id=199

Having never been to a daytime gig before (apart from festivals) it is with cautious apprehension that I enter the Wedge tonight. Sunlight pours through the small areas of skylight in the top of the venue, the place is full of youngsters celebrating the freedom that the Easter holiday brings, and it feels just plain wrong to be drinking at this time. Guinness for lunch? What a curious prospect. I get asked for I.D. at which point I laugh loudly and involuntarily. Im 22 so I present my driving license with a sort of merry glee that seems to irritate the barman; something that doesnt really bother me as I wont be drinking all that much at 1.30 in the afternoon anyway.

The first band of the afternoon get underway at around 2pm, a time that Im not sure is early or late in the scheme of things. These strange times arent restricted by curfews or bar licenses so I suppose bands just play when they feel like it. Before Room 99 strike a note it is clear that they look the part; 4 unruly looking punks with slick back hair, flat caps and wide stances. Once they begin playing however the menacing image is betrayed, as the performance is not even remotely as fierce as the second guitarists quiff is tall.

The tall tattooed singer looks more coy than intimidating, closing his eyes whenever he sings and turning his face away from the crowd at every other opportunity. Every member of the band is set quite far back from the edge of the stage and show no sign of wanted to get any closer to the crowd; they may as well be in another room for the amount of band-audience interaction that goes on. What about the music?! I hear you cry. Well theres a reason why I havent mentioned it thus far. It is uninspirational hardcore punk performed with little to no feeling or conviction at all. Music of this aggression requires a certain amount of gusto behind it, of which Room 99 display none.

After quite a lengthy wait (due to local support the Waysters pulling out) Be Your Own PET take to the stage. Having heard a few tracks before I have a rough idea of what to expect, however the precision and controlled fury with which the material is performed is something that no amount of listening to their debut self-titled album can prepare me for. The instrumentalists thrash around with just as much enthusiasm as the horde of young fans that have sold out the Wedge today; perhaps because of the similarities in age but more likely due to the downright danceability of their punky party anthems. Everybodys having fun, but then after half an hour disaster strikes. Hecklers unleash their hilarious fury.

In a musical gap meant for song requesting (there is no set list) a small group of lads begin chanting get your tits out; which doesnt go down all that well with BYOPs phenomenal vocalist (seriously, her voice has amazing punk edge) Jemina. Her eyes fill with rage and she insists every male member of the audience eats a dick, before accusing all British men of having small penis and informing us that the next fury-fuelled tune will be their last. After barking out the final song the microphone is catapulted into the floor and most of the band storm off, leaving the guitarist to meekly thank the audience before scurrying after them.

Now there are two schools of thought here. The first damns the 20 or so geezers who cut the set four songs short for everybody else and involves elements of feminism, equality and so such. The other reminds us that a sold out Wedgewood Rooms deserves a full set, heckling is part and parcel of performing, and therefore the band should just grow a sense of humour or learn to deal with it. Both are perfectly valid viewpoints and quite frankly I am torn, however Im not all that bothered as I still got to see the fantastic Bunk Trunk Skunk and We Will Vacation, You Can Be My Parasol played live. I just hope this doesnt scare them off playing Portsmouth again. If they do and you are anywhere near you have to check them out, because to see Be Your Own PET live is to fully understand what theyre about.

Matt S.

Michael Wookey Demo Review

2006-06-25T21:47:00.000+01:00

Friday, March 31, 2006
Michael Wookey Demo Review

Originally posted at http://www.the-mag.me.uk/?ArticleId=1042

There are certain phrases in the musical dictionary that instantly turn me off. Among them are `dance`, `RnB`, `krunk` and more relevantly `artiste`. By this I mean those self-indulgent people who put together tunes in their bedroom and demand the world to applaud their works of genius or wallow in cultural depravity forever, an option that usually results in the choice of the latter. So when I received Michael Wooky`s 4-track demo CD and press info I feared the worst. My oh my how wrong I can be.

First of all, it`s all rather understated. His myspace account says he "started making music at 15" and "at 18 he started making good music" which I find delightfully honest and non-egotistical. The music also shows no signs of self over-appreciation; all four tracks are extremely well produced and the levels are just right, avoiding the common current one-man-band pitfalls of excessively loud vocals and ear-splitting `contemporary` synths. Time to get more specific.

"Come On To My Place" and "What You Deserve" are both relatively dark and sombre ventures, driven by simple synth chords and processed beats. What really creates the endearing atmosphere that he seems to have mastered, is the layered vocals that surround you (almost tauntingly on "What You Deserve"). They sit well in the mix and are soothingly haunting, both unnerving and pleasant at the same time. Sounds contradictory I know but that really is the only way to describe it. The raw, twanging guitar on "Come On To My Place" mixes well with the creepy samples that envelop the chorus and give an uplifting sense leading into the lighter ending section that sweetens with the inclusion of some female backing vocals.

A Liza Tarbuck sample kicks off "I Can Show You Things", being a waltzy happy-go-lucky romp with an infectious chorus that makes you want to grab a complete stranger and, well, show them things. I`m reminded of the Beach Boys` classic Pet Sounds as I replay this tune; not necessarily the style of music (although it does bear resemblance) but more the feeling of calm, happy enjoyment it gives me. The fantastically simple "I Admire You" extends this feeling up to the end of the CD and if you`re not clapping along by the end of its 2 minutes 21 seconds, you must be void of a soul.

I guess the bottom line is that these are, put very simply, `nice songs`. You can enjoy them and sing along to them, after which you will probably have a soft spot for them until whenever your memory fails you. Michael, for my sake and everybody else`s; a full length album please.

Matt S.

Little Green/ Pete Lyons/ the Waysters@ Lennons, Southampton

2006-06-25T21:44:00.000+01:00

Sunday, March 26, 2006
Little Green/ Pete Lyons/ the Waysters@ Lennons, Southampton

Originally published at http://www.the-mag.me.uk/?ArticleId=1041

There is something about Lennons that just doesn`t agree with me. It`s as if the venue wants me to show my dedication to the cause before welcoming me into the lovely musical sanctuary that lies within its walls. The first time I came here they forgot to give me my cashback and this time I`m not on the list on the door. All it means is that I have to pay like everybody else however, for an egotistical prat such as myself, this is easier said than done. I`m joking of course but this place does seem to make me work for my admittance. It`s always well worth it though.

Due to the small amount of people at this gig I start chatting to The Waysters` manager who works as a promoter in the Portsmouth area. As they take to the stage he reiterates to me his respect for these 15/16 year olds and their ability to handle all the pressures put upon gigging bands; be it whilst playing in front of hundreds of people or (as with tonight) the equally demanding task of performing in front of a skeleton crowd of a couple of dozen. Their tactic is to let the songs do the talking, allowing the front man to demonstrate a confidence and swagger far beyond his years whilst knocking out the impressively tight Libertines/Arctic Monkeys style tunes. All of the elements of a great rock band are here; musical proficiency, catchy hooks and attitude. Let`s hope girls and other teenage disputes don`t get in the way of these youngsters fulfilling their obvious potential. Rock on, little dudes.

By the time The Waysters finish the place has filled out quite a bit and we`re getting closer to the kind of hustle and bustle that I`ve grown accustomed to at Lennon`s. Apparently this isn`t good enough for Peter Lyons and his Fiction Theatre however, as two songs in he quips something about it being the "emptiest I`ve ever seen Lennon`s" which "has to be the night I`m playing". One song later he ends by remarking "thanks…" swiftly followed by what sounds like "…fuckers". By this point I am ready to completely disregard any of his musical expression. Why should I pay attention to somebody who thinks he is above his audience from the word go? Has he ever heard of winning over an audience? The posters describe him as what Brian Wilson would sound like had he `been in his prime in 2006`, although I`m not sure "Good vibrations…fuckers" would have gone down quite as well in 1966.

But I suppose I should give the guy some coverage. Maybe I am completely misreading him. Maybe I was blinded by the t-shirt that reads `fuck your 80`s fashion dance` as well as the total disregard for his audience`s enjoyment. Maybe I just really dislike angry self-obsessed artists who have ideas above their stations and then wonder why people don`t hear the genius behind their masterpiece. Or perhaps the reality is that despite moments of genuine catchiness and the occasional dual-vocal harmony success, it all just gets a bit too drone-y. Sometimes the injections of electronica work and sometimes they don`t, but it`s hard for me to appreciate anybody who thinks they deserve a sell-out audience by right. On the bright side, if Peter Lyons is even half as good as he thinks he is he will be signed and become huge. C`mon Peter, prove me wrong.

After that I am ready for anything remotely fun or danceable. With Lyons circulating the crowd I pray for an 80`s tune to come on so that I can do the robot on his toes and watch his face turn from white to a deep red colour. It doesn`t happen, so I return to reality and hope that our Editor was correct about Little Green when he complimented the creativity of their songwriting.

The place is packed when they begin, just as it was when the impressive Maccabees performed here a short while ago and blew me away in their own jump-started jerky fashion. Little Green`s driving chord-based distortion-laced riffs lend themselves to this crowd of half-cut young groovers, providing the soundtrack to quite a few questionable dance moves from clumsy movers such as myself (I try, but I always fail). Watching them onstage it`s quite hard to determine who the front man is as the guy stood in the middle keeps threatening to sing but never actually does. Eventually the taller, slightly off-centre guitarist takes control, accompanying the grunge with some crooned lyrics about something-or-other. The singing is not the main attraction of Little Green however, so I will speak of it no more.

As our Steve pointed out, creativity is their strong point. Little Green separate themselves from every other grunge rock band by putting together interesting song structures; taking the audience by surprise with tender moments that intersect verses of raucous fret-bashing and hair-flapping. As the set progresses the guitarists get more comfortable and start to really get into it, an invaluable asset to any band. In their enthusiasm tightness is occasionally forfeited however, in front of a crowd who want to be entertained, this can probably be overlooked. Tonight they provide the backing music for most people`s drinking conversations, but I`m sure with a bit of tightening here and there they will deserve more dedicated attention in the future.

Matt S.

Ladyfuzz, Rival Jousters live @ Southampton Joiners

2006-06-25T21:40:00.000+01:00

Ladyfuzz, Rival Joustas live @ Joiners

Originally published at http://www.the-mag.me.uk/?ArticleId=957

After some initial problems getting into the venue (my name isn`t on the door despite assurances that it would be), I`m eventually let in and head straight for the bar, if not for a drink just for warmth and something to lean on. It doesn`t seem very busy for what I thought was a relatively well known band, but then again the current scene moves so fast it`s hard to tell what`s generally accepted as good and what isn`t.

After the initial bevy I go and have a look at the first band. Throughout UK Surf`s set some woman keeps backing into me despite having an endless amount of space in front of her. Every time she bumps into me (I`m backed against a wall), she turns round and gives me the glare of a maniac. If she didn`t have her bloke with her I might have thought she was coming onto me.

Despite this distraction I do manage to enjoy the band. The keyboardist has the nerdy Chemical Brothers look nailed and the rest of the band look equally as `uncool` (in current `scene` terms). This actually works for them as they are clearly just playing music they like, rather than what they think other people will like. It`s rocky and well structured but the singer`s voice is about an octave too low to successfully compliment the epic rock chorus they frequently produce. Entertaining but nothing too memorable.

The gap between bands gives me an opportunity to move away from the psycho lady, but the break is short-lived. I get nice and close for Rival Jousters and need somewhere to put my empty glass, the only option being a shelf on the wall that is directly behind... you guessed it... psycho lady. Thankfully she isn`t looking, so I sneak up and put my glass on the shelf buckaroo style. She doesn`t buck or even see me. Phew.

Standing close up during Rival Joustas is a risky affair. The frantic, jerky riffage is complemented by the singer`s set-long epileptic fit (disclaimer: not a real epileptic fit), during which he often spills out into the crowd. I watch peoples faces turn from delight to genuine unease as the front man convulses on the floor for slightly longer than seems necessary.

Each member is completely self-involved in the music, all four of them thrashing around in their own territory with never-ending energy that could either be attributed to their young age or artistic passion. The singer ends the set with his shirt over his head and a tambourine down his pants. Need I say more?

In truth I feel a need to write a whole lot more on Rival Joustas but I won`t, because Ladyfuzz are the headliners tonight and it would be unfair. The Jousters finish the set asking us to "stick around for Ladyfuzz"; a command that about a third of the audience ignore and disappear either homeward or to chat to members of their new favourite band. In a fantastic turn of fate, psycho lady is one of the disobedient members of the crowd who vanishes, although I`m never quite sure whether she`s really gone or just wants me to think she`s gone (paranoia is not a trait I`m proud of.)

I back against a wall for a better vantage point in preparation for Ladyfuzz, and it turns out I`m on the better side of the stage; the lady side. To say they look like the Yeah Yeah Yeahs would be a lazy comparison, however this doesn`t make it any less true. It`s not so much the female singer but more the guitarist`s elaborate pedal setup and the drummer`s menacing stare.

The three piece start with confidence and an energy that holds my attention for about two songs, after which it starts to get a bit repetitive.

A multitude of instruments (recorder, kazoo, cowbell trio) gives an illusion of ingenuity which I later perceive to be a cover to hide the lack of song writing variance. Even the singer`s seductive vocal presence begins to wear thin as the lyrics are reduced to whines, `ahs` and `ohs`; a crafty way of encouraging the gaggle of young female fans at the front to join in with their fashion idol. If they just looked over to the left they would witness a more talented musician to aspire to, as despite all my criticism the guitarist remains an inspirational live performer, using a range of effect and loop pedals to fill out the otherwise shallow three-piece sound.

As I leave I pass a Rival Jousta being backed into a corner by a group of young fans, followed seconds later by the Ladyfuzz guitarist standing on his own looking slightly bewildered. It is clear where the electricity of tonight`s gig originated, and it wasnt from the headliners.

Matt S.

Maccabees live at Lennon's, Southampton

2006-06-25T21:34:00.000+01:00

Thursday, January 19, 2006

Maccabees live at Lennon's Category

Originally published at: http://www.southscene.net/reviews/live/article.php?id=2763

Entering Lennon’s is a bit like entering a Tardis, the surrounding run-down area gives no suggestion as to what lies within. This is my first visit and I’m impressed by the awkward friendliness of it all. A tiny stage in one corner and a makeshift dance floor in the centre, and of course a bar on the opposite side. I order a drink. I ask for cashback. They forget to give me the cashback but don’t forget to charge me for the transaction, but the less said about that the better.

The crowd start to congregate around the stage as Dais Corporation set up. The bass sound drowns everything else out, which is when I realize there is no bassist, nor a drummer. The drum and bass loop supports two drifty guitars that entertains but gets a bit repetitive. I hope for change and I get it when the two lads are joined by a striking blonde who straps on a guitar and looks out at the crowd absently. In fact all three of them have an absent look on their faces that suggests arrogance, but could just as easily be nerves.

The front man stomps on the loop pedal to start another similar drifty number, as the other guitarist dons a bass guitar. It’s all pretty uninteresting, and the crowd starts to chat amongst themselves and the big-haired lad is visibly peeved. A few songs later they beef it up a bit with something a bit rockier, but this only served in providing the front man with a reason to play a bit more aggressively and finish the set by smashing his axe on the floor, storming through the crowd to hug his mate stood just behind me. An odd way to finish a gig, and no way to impress potential fans and groupies (maybe I’m just being old-fashioned, if I wasn’t stone sober I probably would have shook the guys hand for it).

In between bands I realize that this little club is pretty packed, and the buzz surrounding the Maccabees suggests why. Steve Lemacq tips them for the top, or so the posters all over the place claim. I order a coke and find a nice pillar to lean on. I’ve never heard this band before and I want them to win me over.

The drummer is blocked from view by the other four band members who line up with supreme confidence, full of energy and polished showmanship from the off. They’re an odd-looking bunch, with cardigans and football shirts side-by-side. It’s hard to pigeon-hole them in terms of appearance, which can only be a good thing. I ignore theories that one of them looks a bit like Mark from Peep Show. Nobody deserves that kind of comparison.

The performance is tight and the sound is impressive for such a tiny venue. The singer shifts and twitches like Ian Curtis without the epilepsy (I presume), and the other members hammer their instruments with gusto. The tunes reek of Maximo Park, Bloc Party and Razorlight, but they’re great little tunes in their own right and don’t deserve such flippant comparisons (shame on me). The crowd responds with unanimous approval of every song, and a good number of them sing along to the single X-Ray, evidence that the Lamacq plug isn’t just for advertising purposes.

Amazingly the energy is kept up throughout, and afterwards there is a real sense of everybody being united in having witnessed something a little bit special. The band hang around in the bar as the DJ takes over, chatting to fans new and old with the sort of genuine friendliness that doesn’t make me feel like a fan boy for shaking a guitarist’s hand. ‘Check us out on myspace’, he suggests, a phrase you tend to hear a lot at small gigs like this. For once though, I think I will, and I suggest you do the same.

Check out the Maccabees at www.myspace.com/themaccabees

© Matt S.

65 Days of Static/ Chris Clark/ the Mirimar Disaster@ the Opera House, Bournemouth

2006-05-08T12:29:00.000+01:00

Originally posted at http://www.the-mag.me.uk/?ArticleId=1040

Due to the recent closure of popular Bournemouth venue Mr Smiths, tonight`s bands find themselves performing at the intimidatingly-named Opera House situated less than a stone`s throw away. If it wasn`t for the two guys at the car park who knew where they were going I would never have found it; the entrance comprises of an alleyway that you need a wristband in order to pass through and a metal staircase that leads to a side-entrance. All the glitz and glamour of the opera I do not think.

Regardless, once I`m in its pretty cool; ominously lit with minimal glows of deep red on the stage and behind the bar. When I enter the stage is being defiled by a delightfully evil-sounding thrash band called The Mirimar Disaster who introduce the vocal-less theme of the night, which surprises me as I`m sure singing is present on the only track of theirs that I have previous heard ("Ten Fifty"). Not that it`s much to fret about, in fact the lack of singing allows for a completely unique live experience. The music acts as an accompaniment for the macabre black and white images of torture shown on the two big screens behind the stage. I start to ponder the legality of these videos before my thoughts are interrupted by one of the many cut-throat riffs that frequent each stomping monster of a tune at this band`s disposal. Note to self; keep your guard.

Although I`m unsure about the horror flicks I know what should definitely be outlawed; the amount of people who have turned out early enough to catch TMD. The band members themselves don`t seem to mind however, nutting thin air in perfect unison and thrashing around in such a way that transforms this `empty room` into an `exclusive performance`, something that we`re all lucky to be experiencing. Between songs the front man speaks in a timid Sheffield accent that puts a comedic slant on things when compared to the ferociousness of the performance; it doesn`t matter how tough they could pretend to be, there`s no hiding how chuffed they are to be playing for us tonight.

After I order a drink and almost accidentally walk into the women`s toilets (no Freudian theories please) the between band music and visuals alter slightly so that Chris Clark can seamlessly take the reins. His forte is electronica and his mascot seems to be a small blue alien thing that visionaries, The Media Lounge, manipulate for him. Effort has been put into making this live show more entertaining, but it doesn`t serve to rid my niggling doubts about live DJ sets.

Imagine a club where nobody danced, everybody just stood staring at the mixing desk and clapping in between tunes. It`s a great art form in the wrong context; the fact that there are gaps between each song bothers me too. There are roars of approval (and deservedly so, the tunes are great) but the atmosphere just isn`t there. If this type of music was played at more commercial clubs I think would go clubbing more often and in the same vein if people were dancing tonight I would have enjoyed it a lot more. Great music, just not a live gig act. It does serve a purpose though; the lack of watchable musicianship makes the anticipation before 65 Days of Static that bit more heightened.

As 65 take to the stage it is obvious from the crowd`s reaction that tonight is a big deal for a lot of people and having only heard them on CD I can not relate, only anticipate. However, nothing can prepare me for the reality of 65 DOS` live show. In terms of soul and musical belonging, the stage is their home. They aren`t everybody`s cup of tea on CD but that is probably because in order to `get` what they do you have to experience them in the flesh. As they pound through familiar sections of madness, chaos replaces ambiance and vice versa, a beautiful combination of brutality and tenderness that is driven by live drums and samples combined, filling the room with frantic beats that you can`t help but twitch to. During the second tune a guitarist knocks over his microphone stand that he won`t be using and a roadie rushes on to put it up again. The guitarist laughs. Somebody hasn`t been doing their homework.

Backing out of the increasingly raucous pit I lean on the bar and lose myself in the abstract visuals on the big screens. This is my perfect 65 DOS experience and everybody else in the room is enjoying theirs. This is when I realise the real appeal of this band, they put absolutely no demands on us as the audience. They simply provide us with a barrage of sensory indulgence and allow us to pick our favourite parts and formulate our own individual perfect night. Mine involves sipping a pint and forgetting what day it is while the heavy metal nut at the front`s is more of an energetic punchy affair. The 65 Days of Static saying is "never go home" and it is pretty easy to see where this came from. Despite the lack of a singer they somehow reel you in and keep you gagging for more throughout. Joking aside, I would be perfectly happy for them to play until the sun comes up. Who needs sleep anyway?

But alas, all good things must come to an end and as tonight`s show closes, so does the tour. To mark this occasion a montage of pictures and snippets of tour banter is played throughout the last song, a tune led by a heart-wrenching (truly) delicate piano accompaniment. Apparently their coach averaged 8 miles per gallon. Now that`s rock and roll.

This is easily the best, most original live act I have seen so far this year. If you haven`t already seen them I hope for your sake that the front man`s claim that they may not be playing live for much longer is either an in-joke or a point blank lie.

Death Cab for Cutie/ John Vanderslice @ Portsmouth Pyramids

2006-05-08T12:25:00.000+01:00

Originally published at http://www.the-mag.me.uk/?BandId=751

Due to my recent habit of being fashionably late for gigs I unfortunately missed the usual frenzied fracas of queuing in the big stone walkway leading up to the Pyramids` music hall/venue. Oh how I miss stepping on discarded bags of chips and drained beer cans, shuffling round the stone wall corner to be presented with yet another run of slightly-uphill sloped pathway. Thinking about this takes me back to my college years when nu-metal was rife and the only cure was Oasis (they weren`t pretty times). This isn`t then though. This is now and we have much more to live for.

The opening songs of John Vanderslice`s set sound pretty good from the box office foyer where I spend about ten minutes with our photographer negotiating entry. Once we are granted admittance my guest and I stroll into an extremely brightly lit room (in gig terms anyway). Lighting plays an often under-rated part in event atmosphere and tonight is no exception.

John Vanderslice project a feeling of comfort, massaging us with their electronic indie grooves at a volume that seems to invite chatter between audience members. It`s like a dinner party for the under 18s (I am definitely above the average age here tonight), with the only absent element being cheese and pineapple on sticks served by some youth in a penguin suit. I`m unsure as to whether the smell of burnt hair is part of the ambience; all I know is that I don`t like it.

Vanderslice`s set-up is nice and symmetrical (standing, sitting, sitting, standing), with the organist and drummer taking to the centre of the stage. These actually turn out to be the main driving instruments of their sound, with solid beats complimented by main riffs and hooks performed by the key/synthesiser player. Most verses are akin to soothing background music (minus the pan pipes) and the chorus` attempts to `explode` in fits of happiness and clappiness, although the absence of dynamics and general low volume takes away from the impact between sections.

The front man is extremely chatty in a very American `I love your quaint little town` sort of way and he sounds to me like a more lyrically safe version of Colin Meloy of the Decemberists.

As they finish their set I notice that the lights and general level of crowd noise stays exactly the same. I don`t think half the audience even noticed the band playing.

What these rapscallions are really here for is Death Cab for Cutie; album veterans and major label newcomers with a venue upgrade and 246,723 myspace fans to call their own (makes my 24 `friends` look pretty pathetic). The lights go down (hooray!) and the stage and ceiling areas are illuminated in sea blues and bright sunshine yellowy reds, a stage show that would put most `travel light` bands from overseas to shame.

The singer`s voice makes me think of that `California` song from the O.C. and the rest of the band`s sound does nothing to change this impression. I can almost feel the sand between my toes. Oh no, that`s a cigarette butt.

The upgrade from the Wedgewood Rooms would intimidate a lot of groups but for a band with Death Cab`s huge musical sound, this venue suits them down to the ground. Epicness is what is needed to fill this huge room, a quality that DCFC produce in spades. Every song nails the dynamics that Vanderslice lacked, with each tune elongating the build to its crescendo and creating a hanging sense of euphoria that is reflected in a physical form by the die-hard fans belting out the lyrics whilst staring up at the ceiling with eyes glazed over.

It`s like a hazy trip, but a clean, healthy, all bran type trip on a Florida beach with no hangover. Speaking of hangovers, I have absolutely no problems getting a drink when I want one tonight due to the fact that the majority of the crowd are either currently or pre-pubescent. I enjoy watching young teenagers fumble with fake I.D.s whilst trying their best to act 18. Ah the memories.

Anyway, back to the music. Although their rise in popularity has been very recent, Death Cab have actually released seven albums stretching back to 1997; evidence of which is on show tonight. It`s easy to tell which songs aren`t on 2006`s Plans album by the looks on faces during the opening bars of each tune. Despite a lot of tonight`s set being totally new to most of the crowd everything is fantastically well received; no doubt several old albums will rise in the charts in the aftermath of this tour. On the strength of the performance tonight this would be fully deserved; confident performances and epic ballads like this belong in stadiums as big as the conga line of drunken emo kids I saw emerging from the men`s toilets. Rest assured, it was very big (although I think they got the conga song wrong, but I wasn`t certain enough to correct them).

I leave tonight`s gig with the impression that Death Cab for Cutie are deserving of all the hype they`re getting after all and for a cranky old-timer such as myself this is quite an occurrence. I`ve made a lot of the age thing in this review haven`t I? For the record, I`m 22.

Fickle Public- Just Like I Got Used To Saying Courteney Cox Arquette CD

2006-05-08T12:23:00.000+01:00

Originally published at http://www.the-mag.me.uk/?ArticleId=1017

Fickle Public- 'Just Like I Got Used To Saying Courteney Cox Arquette' single review.

The-Mag`s most recent run-in with Fickle Public came when Andy R saw them rock out at the Glasgow Barfly in January, "jerking and bouncing throughout" a set that seemed to please our own member of the fickle public. That night they finished with this single, "Just Like I Got Used To Saying Courteney Cox Arquette" (that`s boosted my word count) for which they received a "rapturous send off" from their home crowd. So what`s all the fuss about then?

Rather refreshingly there is only the one track on this CD; they seem to have gone for the concentrated quality option of which I approve whole-heartedly.

We begin with some faded in guitar distortion (as all good songs should) and quickly rip into the tune`s main hook; an infectious foot-stomping riff in some bizarre off-beat time signature that ruins any attempt at competent foot-tapping. Then another nice surprise arrives in the form of a singer who can (wait for it...) actually sing. It`s a minor gripe of mine that the recent bout of 80s-influenced tat has polluted the current scene with shouty, talky, off-key `singers` more concerned by warding off deep-vein thrombosis due to the tightness of their jeans than sounding halfway decent in front of a microphone. No danger of that here though.

The singing also has a nice rhythm and melody to it, interlinking with that behemoth of a riff in a sort of `question and answer` fashion before polishing each verse off with a terrifying scream that seems as natural as a big pine tree in an area of untouched Caledonian woodland - which is pretty natural I suspect. Our monster riff then mutates into a modern twist on the age-old solo, jerking and restarting like a knackered Chevy, before flowing into the final verse that chugs towards the end of our 2 minutes 29 seconds sounding a lot more menacing than it did the first time round. One final hit of the riff that will now forever be imprinted in my brain finishes us off and suddenly I don`t like one-track CDs quite so much anymore.

Pleasant Sounds, 17/02/2006, Southampton Joiners

2006-05-08T12:22:00.000+01:00

Originally published at http://www.the-mag.me.uk/?ArticleId=1010

Pleasant Sounds, 17/02/2006, Southampton Joiners

Turning up at tonight's five-band show ever so slightly late I just manage to catch the end of the Tulips' set. There are only two of them, a cute blonde female strumming an acoustic whilst exercising her vocal chords and some long-haired bloke helping her out in ways that seem unnecessary with an electric guitar. She makes the odd mistake that every male in the audience forgives her for, a stark contrast to the totally irrelevant distortion sound emanating from her backing band's amplifier. If I were her I'd ditch that zero and get myself a hero, to coin a phrase.

However I am not her, and neither are Young Lust. In fact I have my doubts as to whether or not Young Lust know who they are, as they seem to have gotten slightly confused at some point in their history. The first line of the first song goes 'take me down to the banks of the river', in much the same style as the G 'n' R tune that begins with almost the exact same line. Do they think nobody will notice or do they not really care so long as they get to strut their sleazy stuff for half an hour? The lead guitarist (who is immensely talented) is totally deluded into thinking that he is Slash to the point where I am convinced that he believes this is Wembley Stadium and I am 50,000 adoring fans (which, by the way, I am not). I laugh quite a lot during their set, and then even more at a mate's 'going for a Slash' pun. Give that guy a job at the Sun.

Two down, three to go. Next up are Benny Hill (sorry, Benhill), an acoustically tinged rock band with a fair amount of cheeky banter attached. These guys have 'pub rock' tattooed on their foreheads (not literally) and they play up to this particular section of the crowd which just so happens to be rife tonight. Lucy on flute gives an extra dimension to the usual rock set-up, providing an occasional Zeppelin-esque extra dimension that demonstrates each individual member's musical capabilities. Judging by the number of people crammed up front and the collection of Bez impersonators circling the crowd Benhill are an unprecedented hit tonight and are cheered until they reach the bar after their set. A hard act to follow.

Regardless, Temper Fire do follow, not only chronologically but also in their musical style. More inoffensive lite-rock but now in a more poppy style that incorporates the same dual vocals practiced by the irritatingly catchy Maroon 5; perhaps you can guess that this is not my cup of tea. It's all a bit too 'happy go lucky' for my own personal taste, but the rest of the crowd warm to the Geordie boys up until the point where a fight breaks out by the front of the stage. I miss the initial bust-up but manage to get back from the bar in time to try and split up the fight in my drunken idiocy. It spills outside along with most people's attention, leaving Temper Fire to cheese it up to the remaining half of the crowd. Fun, but almost instantly forgettable.

So it's down to the Pleasant Sounds to restore order following the recent impromptu schoolyard scrap, and with a name like that they sound like just the ticket to calm things down. Thankfully most of the crowd return for this spectacle and the blues-funk sound is well received by the tipsy Friday night audience. With their waistcoat, bellbottoms and classic rock jams they harness the 70s spirit in much the same way as Led Zep or Cream, feeding off the crowd's hippy-inspired freak outs with their own seemingly improvised grooves that reek unashamedly of their influences. The front man looks like Noddy Holder and sounds like David Coverdale, demonstrating how the Darkness could have shadowed their idols whilst actually retaining their dignity.

All in all this is an enjoyable night in which to let your hair down, only to be topped off by the celebrity appearance of local lass Lydia from the current series of Brat Camp. I leave with so much adrenaline I follow it up with poker and whiskey until four in the morning. How's that for classic rock spirit?

Matt S.

Dead Dead Dead! 11/02/06. Southampton Joiners

2006-05-08T12:20:00.000+01:00

Originally published at http://www.the-mag.me.uk/?ArticleId=1014

Dead Dead Dead! 11/02/06. Southampton Joiners

Tonights gig is one that I have been looking forward to for quite some time; Dead Dead Dead! Are one of those bands that I hear a lot about but never actually get around to checking out. Judging by the amount of support bands (there are three) as well as spectators gulping down the drink at the Joiners tonight the good word has spread further afield than my humble home, and it's also worth noting that this is not the usual gig night crowd; the majority of the crowd would look more at home in their local cheering on Pompey or the Saints in a drunken stupor. Not that I'm one to judge of course.

Around half of the crowd arrange themselves in front of the stage to see Dumb Founded struggle with a canvas banner sporting the band name and a menacing pair of black and white squinty eyes, a humorous event that could have been avoided if it had been hung more than half an hour before they are due to take the stage. When they finally do strike a chord I am relieved to discover that their musical prowess if far more impressive than their banner-hanging skills.

As with so many bands on the current scene Dumb Founded sound like Maximo Park, Franz Ferdinand, and Bloc Party squashed into fashionable togs minus the instrument cohesion. Although these guys don't differ in the influence stakes, they are certainly more polished than the usual copycat affair. To their credit the singer is an imposing front man, chatting away between songs with the sort of confidence that seems impervious to stagefright. Ironically it is his slightly shouty and tuneless vocals that let the overall sound down, transforming the otherwise catchy tune Secrets and Lies into a wingey mess of mismatched melodies. Flawed but one of the better Southampton-based bands I've seen in a while.

If there's anything that throws a pessimistic reviewer off balance it's a drastic change of genre, and this is surely the most drastic that could possibly occur. No tight jeans or Converse All-stars here, just unadulterated Dad-Rock in the shape of the age-defying Accrington Stanley. Imagine your English teacher crooning in a medieval manner and jumping around like Michael Stipe after whipping off his jumper in a wild bid to 'feel free man'. Got it? Now imagine that the music is actually very catchy and faultlessly performed by four guys who have been playing longer than most teenagers have been alive. I might be selling it badly but trust me, it's so safe and inoffensive you can't help but enjoy it and neither can the crowd, most of whom are now jostling for standing space in front of the stage.

Perhaps it's the lack of 'scene' that unites tonight's audience in some good old fashioned Saturday night fun, or perhaps it's the well crafted tunes in the style of REM and the Rembrants that lets us all forgive the attempted acrobatics of the energetic lead singer (who actually is an English teacher). Whatever it is spills over into Rotating Leslie's set, carrying an enthusiasm that drives a drunken gang or middle-aged women to spontaneously seduce a mate of mine mere feet from his girlfriend. With so many wild and crazy females around it's hard to comply with the government's anti-drive driving policy, but I suppress my urges and stick to the coke.

The first thing that strikes me about Rotating Leslie is the singer's fantastic voice. In the current wave of 80s-inspired groups genuine vocal talents are rare, so to find one accompanied by such incredible songwriting is a rare treat. Balls-out riffage is mixed with moments of atmospheric unease that pulls me in and holds me there for the entire set, occasionally revisiting reality woken by the rapturous applause from the eager crowd. They have their own soundman who executes the various effects on the singer's voice, a tiny effect that proves the icing on the cake for this genuinely enthralling half hour of music. Highlight Fire Fire is supplied on a 3-track CD that the band sells after their set, a bargain that unsurprisingly sells out rather quickly. If there's any justice they'll be huge this time next year.

Now for what I came for. Dead Dead Dead! Initially strike me as a contemporary jazz band due to both their setup and the sound of the opening track. This soon gives way to a more raw bluesy sound, mainly down to the singer's Black Keys-esque guitar distortion effect which is awesome to behold but often overpowers the backing grooves and seems a touch out of place. The progressive style is akin to the Mars Volta but less well fused together, with new section after section being performed with little relevance. This gives the illusion of spontaneous jamming which is occasionally enthralling to witness, enhanced by the lead guitarist's energetic display that covers all available areas of the stage.

By the end of DDD's set I am won over. They are not an easy band to 'get', but once they get their claws into your skull I guarantee you'll want to go out, but youself an electric guitar and whack the amp up to eleven. The front man splices the tunes with Partridge quotes and conversations about 'fucking fat people walking', subjects that seem to tune in with tonight's sell-out crowd whom sing along with several seemingly disjointed sections of music.

Tonight is like a mini-festival, all singing all dancing and completely messed-up genre wise. I wouldn't advise anyone against seeing any of tonight bands, in fact quite the opposite. Everybody had a grand time tonight, even a knackered old grump such as myself.

Matt S.

Three Day Benda (Mista Mushroom / Harpoon Larsen) @ The Registry, Portsmouth. 02/02/06

2006-04-05T16:33:00.002+01:00

Originally published at http://www.the-mag.me.uk/?ArticleId=1001

Three Day Benda (Mista Mushroom / Harpoon Larsen) @ The Registry, Portsmouth. 02/02/06

Tonight's punk-fest is being held in the student hang-out the Registry, a venue that I never really thought would lend itself to live bands due to the awkward shape. The stage is set up in a corner by the bar next to the DJ/soundman and has one constant spectator; a bloody great beam directly in front of the centre of the stage. It seems logical to stand in front of this thing in order to be able to see, because of which all tonight's bands enjoy a tightly packed group of spectators.
The first band to benefit from this layout is Harpoon Larsen, a band whose name conjures thought of some new Swedish soccer superstar taking the Premiership by storm. Instead I get ‘ska pop whalecore' (apparently), producing epic 10-minute bubblegum punk songs that flow well from section to section, a style that I find surprisingly interesting (I'm not the world's biggest pop punk fan). The odd slip out of time didn't dent the show too much, although the very short front man's lack of conviction with a microphone might be something to rectify for future performances.

Next on the bill on Mista Mushroom, a band who promote themselves as 'ska hoodlum newcomers'. As they stroll on I suddenly remember seeing them once before and my previous thoughts on their performance come flooding back. My main three observations were; the singer looks very much like Robert Smith, I find them slightly too arrogant for their own good, and the music suggests more than just a small influence from madcap band Mr. Bungle. I told the singer this at the Wedgewood Rooms and it didn't go down too well. "But I like Mr. Bungle" I protested, to which he just kind of sneered and mumbled to himself.
Maybe I was too harsh on the guy. I mean they are a great band, the main plus point being that halfway through most of their tunes it gets very hard to distinguish any punk ska influence at all, and in a genre that has minimal diversity, this is an invaluable ability to practice. Despite their songs not being widely known, we were able to sing along during sections containing lyrics ripped out of Fresh Prince of Bel Air, the Mighty Boosh and Limp Bizkit. These bits are funny but drag on for a bit too long; irony is only humorous for a short while and it certainly isn't new or witty. Despite this they played with a confidence that suggests longevity and success for the future and the musical ability shows a potential to develop into something unique and intriguing. Watch this space.

As Three Day Benda take to the stage the crowd has thinned out quite a bit, once again showcasing my biggest gripe with unsigned band gigs; the bands take their fans with them when they leave. In defiance it take 3DB just half a song to muster up a crowd, and by the middle of the set some of the most unlikely fans are skanking their nuts off up front (i.e. skinheads who initially seem to be taking the piss but end up loving it). Classic punk banter involving penises, housemate auctions and a makeshift merchandise model fills in the cracks between songs, for which the trumpeter, guitarist and singer receive the joint front man award for tonight. There's no actual trophy though. Sorry.
Although with tunes such as "Elements of Confusion" and "Bar-Mitzvah" it shouldn't be long before this band get rewarded with a slightly more prestigious trophy; that of a shiny new record deal. These are highly polished tunes that rock, croon and pop in equal measure but in a series of wild and unpredictable sequences that keep the set lively and interesting.
I left the Registry deafened in one ear which I suppose is a consequence of being totally transfixed on an act for forty minutes. A night of crazy ska punk and a sensory injury for a measly £2 entry fee? Value I'm sure you'll agree.

My Ruin/GU Medicine @ Portsmouth Wedgewood Rooms, 30/01/06

2006-04-05T16:33:00.001+01:00

Originally published at http://www.disordermagazine.net/article.php?id=62

My Ruin/GU Medicine @ Portsmouth Wedgewood Rooms, 30/01/06

Entering the Wedge tonight takes me back to my college days when nu-metal was king and the only real alternatives were the Strokes and Coldplay. Back then I wore my chain, stupid mid-length baggy jeans and One Minute Silence t-shirt with pride. I laughed at pictures of my parents in their 70s gear, convinced that I would never look back at my ‘style’ choice with regret. If there’s one thing more distressing than looking around at the misfits in the Wedgewood Rooms tonight, it’s the fact that many of them remind me of myself five years ago. Eek!

Although I grew out of the image from back then I certainly did not grow out of my appreciation for heavy music. Luckily, G.U. Medicine deliver exactly that. As they kick off a bitch fight starts mere meters away from me; a mess of hair and nails and screeching that no man would be stupid enough to get in the middle of. G.U. Medicine embody the spirit of punk rock, spitting out tune after tune without letting up until the very end of their final song. The relentless crunching guitars remind me of Sick of it All, whilst the barked vocals seem like a combination of Entombed and Bruce Dickinson’s controlled epic singing style. The front man seems weathered and well practiced; it takes a special kind of singer to make minimum movements and hold my attention for the entire set, which this guy pulls of seamlessly.

I can’t help but think that My Ruin have a hard act to follow. They march on to the smoky stage to the tune of a creepy spoken intro which is presumably the voice of Tairrie B, the female singer and leader of this motley crew of Californians. From the very first song she is right up in the audience’s faces, quite literally coming nose to nose with whichever pierced face she finds the most attractive. It’s hard to see her clearly from where I am stood, as she is literally part of the crowd for most of the time. When she does step into view I have to have a double-take; is that Toyah Wilcox? She’s got an orange and black mullet surrounding her cute chubby face like a keratin picture frame, it’s something I notice but admittedly not strictly a musical matter.

In actual fact My Ruin’s music has a similar appeal to that of Tairrie B’s hairdo: initially interesting, occasionally captivating but soon pretty boring. Tairrie’s screaming voice is pretty impressive ‘for a girl’ (may get strung up for that comment) but in broad metal terms it is nothing spectacular. It is constantly at the same low pitch and shows minimal ingenuity, much like the repetitive feel of the band’s tunes. The riffs are muddy and stomp along at the same plodding speed throughout the entire set. There is a very clear separation between lasting metal genres and the less musically-adept nu-metal, and tonight My Ruin highlight the reasons why the fleeting genre of heavy music died out.

On a positive note, the guitarist and drummer are incredible musicians and every now and then they get the chance to show us this. Some of the solos remind me of the late great Dimebag Daryll’s axe work, wailing and screeching with the utmost control and rhythm. The drummer shows his skills by playing each simple beat in as awkward a way as possible, spinning his sticks and switching positions in such a way that makes his experience obvious. I can’t help but wonder what these guys would produce outside of the simplified framework of this outdated brand of metal.

Whilst the Goths and the misfits deafen me between every song with their admiration for the group, I am extremely underwhelmed. There’s a limit to how long sporadic soloing and big hair can exclusively hold my interest, and tonight I found my limit.

www.myruin.com

3 Feb 2006 by Matt S.

The Kooks/ The Automatic @ Southampton Joiners. 24/01/06

2006-04-05T16:33:00.000+01:00

Article originally published at http://www.disordermagazine.net/article.php?id=132

The Kooks/ The Automatic @ Southampton Joiners. 24/01/06

Tickets for this intimate gig selling were on ebay for almost £90 per pair. Inside the venue I study a few faces trying to figure out what type of person could possibly like this band enough to pay such an absurd price, but stop when I realize that I myself paid £15 for the £6 face value ticket.

After a long, long wait in a restless sweaty crowd The Automatic finally take to the stage to the relief of the adolescent crowd. By now I’ve already sunk my only beer of the night (I’m driving… again), so I’m forced to watch the remainder of the show fuelled only on coke and/or water. The big guy on bass is stood centre stage and says “hello” in that timid way bands do when they don’t want to appear arrogant, and they tear into their first tune. When I say ‘tear’ I actually mean ‘cut along the previously marked-out guidelines’, as we are revisiting Brit-pop here people. I’ve often wondered who would follow in Kaiser Chief’s footsteps with the whole rigidly-structured catchy twist on the current ‘jerky-riff’ craze, and tonight I am presented with an example of just such a band.

Performance-wise this is a one-man show. Pennie the synth man twists and contorts over his sound manipulation equipment before teetering on the edge of the stage over the audience, barking backing vocals into his mic as if the rest of the band forgot to walk him, which is entirely possible considering they forgot to bring their charisma onstage tonight. Without Pennie they would just be an indie band with catchy songs and a slightly nervous front man (who has lost his voice tonight), apparently this young keyboardist has to entertain a sold out Alexandra Palace on his own on April 22nd supporting, you guessed it, the Kaiser Chiefs.

A security man guides The Kooks through the crowd (there is no rear access to the stage here) and the female contingent raise an ear-splitting screech for lead singer Luke.

He sees this as a perfect opportunity to ham it up even more by kicking off with solo piece ‘Seaside’, a nostalgic dip of the toe into coast-based childhood. After this the girl fans are like lambs to the slaughter, and the whole band tear into the material from recently-released album ‘Inside In/ Inside Out’. As far as I can hear this is good ol’ fashioned Rock ‘n’ Roll, with most songs being entirely chord-based. There are no ‘Libertines-esque’ riffs being sold here, just straightforward verse-chorus singalong tunes that all require the same speed of head-nodding. A rhythm that begins to get a tad boring, conveniently at a time when I am thirsty.

When I return with my plastic tumbler of Coke and scramble for somewhere to stand, the music that greets me sounds strangely different not unlike the Dire Straights classic ‘Sultans of Swing’. In actual fact it’s ‘Ooh La’, and I’m probably the only person in the audience who makes the classic rock connection. Is it because I’m sad? because I’m relatively uncool? (I don’t wear scarves indoors on general principle) Whatever the reason it’s the highlight of my night, but I still find myself hoping that they don’t treat us to an encore.

Officially, The Kooks ‘rock’ the Joiners tonight. They play to their strengths and to their existing fans, but I’m not sure if performances like this will win them too many new fans in larger venues. They can for now however, consider the Southampton Joiners’ slain.

www.thekooks.co.uk, www.theautomatic.co.uk and of course, they are both on www.myspace.com.
30 Jan 2006 by Matt S